


Interlude

by tintatalk



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Chanyeol has a praise kink, M/M, Mentions of Prostitution, Stripper Chanyeol, Strippers & Strip Clubs, explicit and gratuitous smut, mentions of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 12:33:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 58,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12410403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tintatalk/pseuds/tintatalk
Summary: Chanyeol’s job as an exotic dancer is enlivened by the appearance of a new and intriguing patron.





	Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #2
> 
> ... so I wrote ~59k for a strip club AU?
> 
> thank you mods and thank you my dearest Nemo for helping me plot MONTHS ago. I shall dedicate this fic to you for your birthday, gal. <3  
> This was quite hard to write, especially towards the end because I had no time and was freaking out because of deadlines--but here it is. It's done. I hope you guys enjoy this. I haven't properly edited it and I have no beta, but here, take it: 59k of stripper!Chanyeol :-)
> 
> NOTE: This fic deals with drugs. The characters all have their own views and I just want to make a note that I do not encourage nor condemn drug use. The reactions of the characters are purely for fic purposes.

There are some things in life that aren’t meant to last. Chanyeol likes to think of these as stepping stones, points in time that are meant to help people grow. Things happen, _shit_ happens, and it’s up to the individual to figure out how it’s going to affect and change them—if it’s going to affect and change them at all.

Chanyeol hopes that his job at the strip club _Chen’s_ is one of these ‘stepping stones’.

It’s slightly muggy backstage, the air scented sour with hairspray and musky cologne. Their aircon stopped working last week and while Jongdae did promise a new one, Chanyeol knows it’s going to take months. They don’t have the money to call in a repairman, not when Jongdae thinks sweat helps gain clientele.

“Sweat reminds people of sex, and what we’re doing here is selling sex.” Chanyeol remembers him saying, voice steady.

Chanyeol presses the beauty blender against the crease of his nose and watches as the liquid marks his skin, covering up the slight sunspots pattered over the plush of his cheeks. He then drags a separate brush downwards, past his face and neck, and straight onto his torso. Like a painter, Chanyeol wafts the brush against his abs, paving lines down his stomach and into the shapely grooves. He’s contouring his abs, the bristles of the brush soft, meticulously blending into his skin.

He’s good at this now, has perfected the art of beautifying. With a final flourish of hairspray, and a quick check at the eyeliner now slightly smudged against his waterline, Chanyeol sighs. He can hear the roars from outside, the loud chatter and heavy thumping music.

Jongin’s out there now, an early set for the man. He’s often placed later in the night, when the club really starts to thrive and asks for their favourite. _Kai_ is his name. Dangerous and elusive, eyes sparkling with rambunctious fire.

Chanyeol wishes he was like Jongin.

It’s with a sigh that Chanyeol walks towards the black silk that obscures the backstage area. There are three stages to dance on, two towards the sides of the club and one centre stage that draws in all the attention—including the best tips. It’s the most well lit up area too, a multitude of strobe lights and effects bouncing bright rays onto the dancer and highlighting their good features.

Jongin’s out on the main stage now because of course he is. He’s Jongdae’s main dancer, the one who pulls in the most buck.

With a slight peak behind the curtain, Chanyeol watches Jongin.

Breathtaking. Never anything but breathtaking when Chanyeol glances past the silky mirage of black and catches a glimpse of Jongin. Fluid and beautiful, and yet he strikes back, sharp. There’s something hypnotic about the way Jongin moves, as he cocks his hip sultrily in a circle, arms reaching out for the pole. He falls backward, the warm heat-light gently illuminating the muscles of his abs and making Chanyeol ache.

There are a flurry of men standing by the side of the stage, eyes bedazzled by the sight of Kim Jongin, _Kai_. They reach up, to try and touch him, fingers on the grasp—but they miss him by mere centimetres. Money falls to the floor then, an abundance of yellow bills hastily dropping on the stage.

Chanyeol is jealous of Jongin. Of his skills, of his prowess, of his _tips_.

“Chanyeol, you’re up.”

Jongdae’s voice isn’t very loud but it’s as clear as day to Chanyeol despite having his attention almost unconditionally taken away by Jongin. The tall man drags his gaze to the left and stands up high. Jongdae is holding a sheer translucent nightgown, peach-coloured with swirly embroidery near the hem. It’s his customary get-up, what Chanyeol wears whenever he prances on stage, the dark black of his tight briefs clearly visible underneath.

“I need to,” he gestures towards his cock, and shrugs when Jongdae shakes his head at him. “Sorry.”

“You should stop ogling Jongin and get that shit sorted _before_ your shift, Chanyeol.” Jongdae sounds disapproving but Chanyeol knows he’s let off the hook when the man walks away with a soft sigh.

With haste, Chanyeol walks towards his dresser and opens the first drawer. He grabs the small item that’s placed inside and hobbles towards the bathroom. As soon as he’s locked in a stall, underwear now thrown to his knees, he sighs.

It’s not often that he wears a cock-ring. Honestly, they’re more of a hassle than anything else, and he’s heard stories of consistent continued use leading to erectile dysfunction. The fact that he’s rubbing his cock right now, eyes half-closed in vicious heat, is because he’s working a Saturday night shift. This isn’t normal, heck, Chanyeol doesn’t even _remember_ the last time he got called in to do a Saturday.

Needless to say, Chanyeol isn’t the best of dancers. He’s grown over time, has developed to fit his role since he first started, but he’s not like Jongin. He’s not like Yixing. His arms are too long, legs even longer, and there’s always an issue with balance and fluidity. He’s lucky to get the Wednesday night shifts, even Thursdays. Thursdays are relatively packed too, filled with the younger crowd who thrive off the cheap entry and even cheaper basics. But they’re nothing like Saturdays.

Saturdays are packed to the brim, bustling with men and a few women eager to let go and fall in love with one of the boys on-stage. It’s precisely because Chanyeol’s working a Saturday shift that he’s here now, cock-ring glinting under the harsh fluorescent light.    

By the time he’s walking out of the bathroom, pair of briefs on and coral sheer now covering his neck and shoulders, he’s slightly late. He can feel his erection rub a little uncomfortably at the fabric of his briefs, and for the nth time, Chanyeol thanks God he’s not forced to wear a jock-strap. Not even forced to, he’s not _allowed_.

“No holes, no poles,” he remembers Jongdae nodding during Chanyeol’s brief orientation, voice relaying a serious ‘I’m the owner and you must listen to me’ tone. Not that Chanyeol _wants_ to throw off his underwear and parade around naked, he’s very much fine in his tight briefs—even if they don’t leave anything to the imagination, anyway.

The silk feels soft against his skin now that he’s more focused on the job at hand. He’s been asked what it’s like to dance, how it feels like to shake his body as sultrily as he can, thighs curled around a lengthy pole. At times he’s been called names like ‘Princess’, demasculinised, the mentality of exotic dancers singularising around female performers. It’s not that he particularly objects to being called these things, but even now, as Chanyeol throws a hand out to grab the pole on-stage, he knows he’s not a princess.

He’s a prince.

The lights turn on then, highlighting the edge of his stage. He can hear the hoots coming from the middle of the club, all patrons focused on their money-maker Kai. Jongin is in the middle of his set, body sliding along the pole, up and down, skin-tight and yet tear-away pants stuck to thick thighs. He’s shimmering under the light, like a glossy mirage, the shiny exterior due to a bit of massage oil Chanyeol had rubbed in earlier.

Alas, it’s not time to ogle Jongin, no, it’s time for Chanyeol to take care of his own platform. Today he’s handling the left stage. It’s smaller, more blockish and rectangular than the almost runway-like centre. What it is though, is enough for Chanyeol to dance, arms raising over his head and sliding down the length of his gown.

There isn’t much light on Chanyeol—there never is on the edge stages—but it’s enough for him to see what he’s doing, circling his hips and flexing his arms. He knows he looks nice, body long yet toned, muscled arms glinting under the poor lighting. His gown is smooth against his skin, and Chanyeol can feel it ride up the curve of his ass when he slides from the ground up the length of the pole.

It’s all standard moves, rolling his hips, rubbing his hands down his thigh and then up his abs. The gown doesn’t hide anything, an aesthetic extra, the first gift ever given to him by Jongdae when he was settling in. Chanyeol wears it for every performance now, at least during the beginning. By the end of the set, the gown is always on the floor.

Chanyeol sways, knees bending, hands rubbing up and down his thighs. He looks out into the crowd, but the majority of them are faced towards Jongin, eyes wide and money in their hands. A few are looking at Minseok, one of the other dancers who is currently taking care of the right stage. Minseok is the most ripped of them all, and that’s how he pulls his clientele. Chanyeol can see the man dragging a customer’s hand down his abs.

When Chanyeol brings his gaze back towards the people in his section, he lets out a brief sigh. His regular is here, the one man that watches in the corner, who _never_ fails to miss one of Chanyeol’s performances. He’s honestly a bit creepy too, _old_ , too old for Chanyeol to think about even when contemplating a potential sugar daddy. He’ll have to ask Kyungsoo to make sure the man doesn’t book a lap-dance later.

A loud squeal brings Chanyeol’s attention away from his rather empty corner towards Jongin. He’s brought a lady up on stage, wide grin plastered on. She’s bubbly and extremely happy to be up with Jongin, _Kai,_ whose clothes have simply disappeared from his body. All he’s left in are his pair of briefs, leaving nothing to the imagination. It doesn’t seem like the lady can look away from this sight either, and she stands there, almost bewitched by seductive Kai.

Chanyeol drags his gaze away when Kai reaches out to place the woman’s hand on his chest. Not that Chanyeol has an urge to be touched, but he wishes he had the popularity, the moves, the _skill_ like Jongin. Instead, all he’s stuck with is his usual, the man who sits in the back as well as the—oh.

He trips slightly on his feet, left foot tucked behind right and almost sending him careening towards the ground. Chanyeol grabs the pole then, fingers wrapping around the cool surface and jolting him back to reality.

What the fuck was that?

Except, Chanyeol does know what it was, and when he continues his routine with hot red rimmed ears, he shoots another glance up.

Fuck.

There’s a man there, not the creepy one that always watches him, but another one. He’s probably older than Chanyeol by a few years, dressed neatly in a cool white dress shirt. But it’s not the man’s clothes that made Chanyeol trip, even if the dancer can tell they’re worth more than what he’s made in the past year.

No, it’s the man’s eyes.

He’s laughing now, Chanyeol can see, brown crinkled into half-moon crescents. When he opens them again though, Chanyeol can’t help but gulp, hand trailing down his abs. Heart thumping against his chest, Chanyeol watches the man stare back at him, eyes dark and heady. All-encompassing is what it is, steady gaze drinking him in, over and over again.

It’s hot, so hot, and Chanyeol feels himself open up a little more, legs spreading wider and revealing the thick of his cock through black whiskery briefs. For whatever reason, a newfound confidence pools in the base of his stomach along with an urge to _tempt_ this man. Chanyeol tilts his hips from side to side, dragging the neck of his gown to pool around his biceps, knowing how lovely the tinge of peach is against his skin.

Shooting his gaze back up, Chanyeol bites his lip when he gauges how intense the man’s eyes have become. There are fingers curled around a glass, but the dancer knows the man is paying no attention to the drink, locked solely on Chanyeol. When their eyes meet, Chanyeol nearly gasps aloud when he sees the man’s lips form a word.

_Beautiful_

Turning back to the pole, Chanyeol faces his butt out towards the viewers. He knows his cheeks are red hot, ears probably just as pink. A small breather is all he needs, to take his mind away from the sexy man with bronze hair. Holding onto the pole, Chanyeol allows the gown to fall further down his waist, the toned muscles of his back now revealed to the eyes watching. He hopes the man catches an eyeful, especially when Chanyeol stretches his shoulders, knowing just the way his muscles flex every time he does this.

Shaking his ass, Chanyeol slides from left to right around the pole. The third song is nearly finishing up soon, a roundabout indicator that he only has a few minutes left to show off what he’s worth. The fact that it’s Saturday means that Jongdae has a whole bunch of dancers lined up for tonight, these few short songs are Chanyeol’s little taste. Besides, it’s not like anyone will miss him the way they miss star dancer Kai.

But when he turns back around, gown now completely off and pooling around his timberlands (yeah, Jongdae pays for the dry-cleaning), his eyes instantly seek the man. A warmth runs through the tall dancer, rotating his hips and watching as the man’s gaze lands on Chanyeol’s prominent bulge. Tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth, Chanyeol runs a hand up his abs, hips circling. The man is watching intently, left hand still clenched around his glass. He looks entranced by Chanyeol, face darkening in what the dancer assumes is lust and interest.

With his eyes locked on the man, Chanyeol runs his tongue along the bottom of his lip as his hips continue to gyrate. The song is finishing up soon but Chanyeol is going to give this man his money’s worth. Hell, he feels like he _needs_ to with the way the other’s gaze darkens just as Chanyeol pulls at his briefs, revealing a hint of under-the-bellybutton hair.

The sound of shouts and whistling coming from Jongin’s direction do not faze him in the slightest, not now that Chanyeol has a goal—to _dance_ for this man. He knows he isn’t the best dancer, and when his slut drop to the ground is somewhat clumsy, Chanyeol blushes. But the man, the fucking _man_ looks so spellbound, so eager to see more, and Chanyeol can’t help but want to please.

So he does.

Unfortunately, his time on the floor ends soon after. Chanyeol can hear the pulsing beat of the song slow down, indicating that he has only a few more seconds to finish up. Closing his eyes, Chanyeol raises his arm above his head, allowing the soft side stage lighting to highlight the glow of his skin. When he opens his eyes, the man is still staring at him, and when Chanyeol blinks a little wildly, he sees the other’s lips quirk into a grin.

Heart beating fast in his chest, Chanyeol bends over to pick up his gown and the number of bills scattered around the edge of the stage. He can hear Jongin thanking the number of people crowded around him. Chanyeol scants a glance at the other dancer, biting his lip when he sees the coloured notes piled in the waist-band of his underwear.

There’s a slight ache in his chest when he stands tall to walk off stage. He doesn’t like dancing when Jongin is up—he never has. It’s always a little demotivating seeing the flock of people that crowd around his area, eager to throw money on the boy that’s caught their eye. Chanyeol’s never been that boy.

He watches as Jongin escapes past the black curtain with a flourish, blowing a kiss towards the audience before he’s gone. The centre stage has that capability, easy access, easy leave. Chanyeol on the other hand has to thump down the steps of his stage, eyes averted from the few people still sitting in his area, and definitely away from the man with dark eyes.

As he walks steadily towards the back, he fleetingly casts a glance towards the crowd. He doesn’t know what he expects to see, doesn’t know how to feel when he catches the man’s gaze once again, fiery hot and burning him through.

Chanyeol’s ears are red when he pushes through the door.

“You did well today,” Yixing pats him on the back, hand cool against Chanyeol’s heated skin. The tall man’s cheeks warm under the weight of Yixing’s comment.

“Thanks Xing,” Chanyeol smiles wide and toothy, a tad bashful.

Yixing is one of the club’s main dancers, having worked here since the very beginning. He’s good friends with Jongdae too, although Chanyeol guesses that anyone who earns the club some good buck is ‘good friends’ with Jongdae.

“I’m up now, wish me luck,” Yixing curls his lip up and sends Chanyeol a wink, a move that makes the tall man’s heart thump like a drum in his chest. What can he say, it’s the Yixing effect.

“S-Lay ‘em dead, cowboy,” Chanyeol grins toothily.

“I’ll try.”

He says he’ll try but Chanyeol knows he will. Yixing always does. Currently, he’s wearing a white dress shirt and black slacks, but it’s all going to come off by the end. Yixing has a nipple piercing to show off after all.

Chanyeol hastily moves towards the backstage area. There are a number of boys sitting around, getting ready for Saturday night fever. With just a cursory glance, he can tell that a few of them are already _ready_ , already drugged up and bursting with energy. Someone’s probably delivered a whole new batch of ecstasy pills. Not something he’s interested in.

Most of the boys are dressed down, ready to go on-stage. As opposed to Chanyeol, they’re still wearing clothes to take off during their dance. Meanwhile, the only thing _he_ has on right now is his pair of briefs, gown thrown over his right arm. There’s a wad of bills stuffed in his hand, but it’s nothing compared to the amount of money he sees Jongin placing in his drawer. With a sigh, Chanyeol drops his gown off by his workspace, almost haphazardly throwing money in his own till. All he wants to do right now is take the cock-ring off and maybe grab a drink from the bar. The sight of Jongin _still_ counting his bills makes Chanyeol want something strong.

Before he is able to move towards the bathroom however, he’s stopped.

“Someone bought a lap dance.”

“I told you Soo, I won’t dance for that creepy guy,” Chanyeol sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Not anymore.”

He’s danced for him a few times, but there’s something about the man’s gaze that makes Chanyeol’s skin crawl.

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “It’s someone new.”

New?

Curling his tongue under his front teeth, Chanyeol pauses. Could it be? The man sitting by his section?

“Oh.”

“He bought you a drink too,” Kyungsoo continues, gesturing towards the bar area. “Said he didn’t know what you liked so you can order whatever.”

Chanyeol nods, biting his lip. He’s never had a drink bought for him before. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to respond. Does the man want extra with his lap dance? What is the club policy on this kind of thing and why wasn’t he informed about this beforehand?

Currently, he’s still wearing just his underwear, but it’s not like he can go change now. Throwing on his gown, he stalks out into the crowd, heart beating fast in his chest.

Being a Saturday, the club is packed. There’s patrons everywhere, crowding the tables and watching the men on stage. Loud hoots and whistles sound whenever Yixing and Minseok add extra embellishments to their routine, but Chanyeol ignores the noise. Instead, he finds himself cursed with tunnel vision, eyes locked on the bar.

There are a few people who gaze at him appreciatively as he walks past. Chanyeol can feel their leers, a suggestive comment or two spoken his way. He walks tall, head raised high, only stopping when he reaches the bar stools and catching Kris’ attention.

“Hey, what do you want? That guy told me to put it on his tab,” he points out towards the crowd, and Chanyeol gulps when he sees that it _is_ the man. He’s still staring at Chanyeol, a mysterious smile painting his expression.

“Anything?” Chanyeol questions, eyes still locked with the man.

“Anything.”

“Something strong and sweet, please,” he breaks eye-contact with the man, and blinks when he looks back at Kris.

“That’s not very helpful,” the bartender mutters with a sigh, wiping down a glass. “Fine, whatever.”

Chanyeol taps his fingers on the counter as he waits for Kris to make his drink. He can still feel the appreciative stares lingering on his physique. Besides Kris’ shirtless (with a bowtie) get-up, Chanyeol is the only one dressed down, clothes discarded. Of course, a few of their boys are working on chatting up the customers, and Chanyeol absentmindedly watches as Yukwon prances around in a pair of tight black boxers, a red ribbon covering the front.

“Here,” Kris places the drink in front of him, garnishing the rim with a toothpick of carved apple. “Enjoy.”

Chanyeol nods his thanks, grabbing the glass in one hand as he happens a glance towards the man. He’s still sitting there, hasn’t moved a muscle, and Chanyeol gulps down a thickening of saliva at the sight of those intense eyes. The man smirks when Chanyeol raises his glass, a gesture of thanks, taking a hasty sip.

Ah, something vodka. Apple and vodka. Maybe Cointreau if Chanyeol racks his brain and tries to think through the small list of alcohol he consumes on a regular basis. Kris knows him well.

Keeping his eyes locked on the man, Chanyeol sips the glass dry. The other doesn’t approach, seeming eager to remain seated. He’s dressed up very nice, the material of his shirt flattering the curves and edges of his body. Chanyeol laps up a stray drop of alcohol when his eyes catch sight of a sliver of skin under the top button.

All in all, this man is definitely the most attractive Chanyeol has seen asking for _him_. He doesn’t think he deserves the attention.

“You should attend to him now,” Kyungsoo pops up from the side, sending him a careful glance. “Room 2 is empty.”

“Room 2?” Chanyeol questions, voice turning puzzled. “He ordered a room?”

Usually lap dances are held in public, or at least in the lap dance viewing area. Sure, there’s rooms available but they’re for _extras_. Despite prostitution’s illegality, there is tacit permission by the management here at Chen’s. It’s mostly overlooked and only a few of their dancers actively participate in the service. Usually, it’s hand jobs or blow jobs, but sometimes the customers pay for the full service.

A strange sensation runs through him, something nauseating. He’s never been on the market before.

“Yeah, but it’s _just_ for a lap dance,” Kyungsoo shrugs like not even he understands. “I told him you didn’t do extras, he still paid for the room though.”

“Oh.” That’s good. As handsome as the man is and as experienced at his job Chanyeol is, he doesn’t think he’d be able to provide extra service. He’s never been able to.

“Remember, you get at least 50 percent afterwards.”

Chanyeol nods. Any tips during the session he gets to keep, but if the man pays extra afterwards, he only gets fifty percent of the cut. He’s not really employed by Jongdae after all, more of a private contractor rather than anything. Despite the club being mostly lowkey, Chanyeol still pays to go on-stage to dance. The stage fee is nothing exuberant, but it reminds him that his salary comes purely in the form of gratuitous tipping. It’s why Saturdays are a blessing, why Jongdae letting him pay to dance on Saturday means Chanyeol’s actually balling.  

He thinks back to the wad of cash he stored in his till and snorts lightly. He easily made nearly triple of what he usually earns during the weekdays. He can only imagine just how much Jongin’s raking in.

The smile on his lips freeze, and he lets out a sigh. No thinking of Jongin when he’s supposed to be grinding in some stranger’s lap.

Kyungsoo pats his back and tells him to move on. And so, Chanyeol does.

He keeps his eyes locked on the man as he walks towards him, feeling his gown sway along the side of his legs. The club truly is packed, but all Chanyeol sees is the man in his dress gear, left leg thrown over his right, exuding an air of dominance.

When Chanyeol eventually walks up near him, he sees their difference in body structure. Physically, Chanyeol is much bigger, shoulders broader and legs quite significantly longer. The man is smaller, as most are, but the smirk on his face signifies that he quite likes the difference in body type, quite likes the abs that Chanyeol has on display.

“Thank you for the drink, I enjoyed it a lot,” Chanyeol speaks, dropping into the plush fake leather seating and throwing a rather coquettish glance sideways. He knows his job, he’s done this a hundred times. Men lap up the kittenish play, lap up the way Chanyeol makes them feel strong and dominant. Sure, there’s a few that prefer when Chanyeol steps forward and guides the conversation—and whatever follows—but he thinks he’s hit the nail on the head when the man’s eyes flash in interest. “Is there a name I can use to properly thank you?”

“Baekhyun,” he responds, placing his glass back on the table.

Baekhyun sounds like a real name, Chanyeol thinks absentmindedly.

The other then eyes Chanyeol, eagerly dragging his gaze up and down the dancer’s finger. “May I know yours, pretty?”

Pretty.

Chanyeol was right. He is one of those men.

Ignoring the satisfaction that curls in his stomach at the pet name, Chanyeol grins at the other. “You may call me Loey.”

“Loey…” Baekhyun pronounces the stage-name slowly, letting the word rest on his tongue. He looks curious, eyeing Chanyeol in wonder. That curious expression abates when he raises his glass in the air, towards the tall man. “A toast to you Loey, for being such a wonderful dancer.”

Honestly, Chanyeol should be used to the praise. There’s been more than just a few men who have eagerly lathered him with sweet words, even if Chanyeol isn’t the one they should be praising. He knows that they just want to get into his pants, that all they want to do is butter him up so he’d provide that _extra_ service. Chanyeol knows how men work, knows how men who come to spend a few hours throwing money on dancing boys work.

And that’s what he expects to see here, the same cocky smile, the insincere words.

But, things are... different.

Sure, Baekhyun seems cocky. He’s overflowing with confidence, smirk curling his lips upwards. His hair is artfully dishevelled, like he’s run his fingers through the mess a few times. There’s something about the man that tells Chanyeol he gets what he wants, that he’s used to sitting down without even needing to lift a finger for instant service. It’s something in his eyes, something in his stance, something in the way he stares at Chanyeol like he’s waiting for the tall man to come crawling to him.

That’s all normal, the confidence maybe not _as_ much, but the part where the men expect Chanyeol to lean forward and act all eager. They aren’t wrong in expecting that however, this is Chanyeol’s job.

But… this man, the praise? It actually seems somewhat _genuine_.

“I’m hardly close to being a good dancer,” Chanyeol replies, casting his gaze away from the man.

The man hums immediately after, and Chanyeol brings his eyes back towards the other. He watches as Baekhyun takes another sip of his drink, shaking his head.

“I don’t think so. I was captivated by you.”

Chanyeol’s cheeks redden. It’s probably not visible under the dim lighting, but he can feel it. The warmth spreads through his cheeks down his neck. He tries to remind himself that the words are just a part of this man’s game. His _get-up_. This is how they work, Chanyeol knows it.

But, there’s something, something _sincere_ about Baekhyun. Something sincere about the soft look that invades the inner corners of his eyes.

“Well,” Chanyeol lets out an awkward laugh, gulping down saliva in order to ground himself. Professional. He needs to act professional. More confident. “Thank you. When you’re done with your drink, I can take you to the room.”

Baekhyun nods and takes one last sip before he gestures in Chanyeol’s direction. His drink isn’t finished, still sitting on the bench, amber liquid filling nearly a quarter of it.

Standing up, Chanyeol interestedly notes their height difference. Then, he starts walking towards the private rooms. He can practically feel Baekhyun’s gaze from behind him, probably eyeing the expanse of his back and shoulders. His underwear is dark and probably very much noticeable under his gown too. Maybe he might even be staring at Chanyeol’s legs. They’re long. Some guys love his legs.

The music of the club peters out the further they walk, past the stages, past the multitude of people watching the boys on stage. Chanyeol nods to Kyungsoo who stands by the private rooms, both a guard and yet a supervisor, just in case things go wrong.

“Here we are,” Chanyeol says when they eventually enter the room.

It’s not the nicest room, wallpaper cracking and mysterious stains in the carpet. What Jongdae allows in his club isn’t exactly the most legal business, _prostitution_ isn’t, and that’s what these rooms are meant for. They don’t even have air-con in the central part of the club, of course Jongdae wouldn’t waste money on fixing up these rooms.

Watching Baekhyun take a quick glance around the room, Chanyeol gently takes off his gown. He’s in nothing but his underwear now, cock-ring still there. It’s been so long since he started working as a dancer that his state of undress is almost comfortable. He doesn’t feel embarrassed, he _knows_ he looks good. There’s a reason why Jongdae had asked him if he was interested. Chanyeol takes care of his body, spends time working out.

And yet, now, Chanyeol can’t help the shiver that runs through him.

It’s the weight of Baekhyun’s gaze, hot like a torch, like a brand marking his skin. He’s received appreciative glances before, of course he has, but there’s… something different.

“So,” Chanyeol speaks, wetting his throat and forcing himself to remain professional once more. “A lap dance, huh?”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun is smirking, sitting in the chair that Chanyeol had motioned to. His legs are spread wide, looking extremely comfortable, as if he did this all the time. “Dance for me, baby.”

Baby.

Chanyeol quickly moves towards the speakers, pressing a few buttons. He waits for his usual music to come on, the songs he’s danced to in the past, breathing deep through his mouth. The nerves he’s currently feeling are rare. The shaky breaths he’s exhaling, even less. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, pace increasing.

Sure, he frequently dances on stage. But he doesn’t often get called for lap dances. On the off chance that he is called for one, he’s in their usual lap dance area where the noise of the club rings loud in his ears, deafening but grounding at the same time.

Now though, he’s in a closed-off room, a _quiet_ closed-off room and with one man. The one man who has made Chanyeol’s heart race several times today. The fact that he’s not even a good dancer is the cherry on top.

Exhaling once more, Chanyeol moves towards the pole that’s in the middle of the room. There’s a chair right next to it, and he knows that Baekhyun is currently getting a good look at his ass. Leaning over, Chanyeol tries to go through his regular motions. He curls a leg around the pole, thighs flexing and on display. An arm rides up the pole then and he lets his head fall back.

It’s all normal, it’s what he does on stage, the foreplay before the actual lap dance. He can feel Baekhyun devouring him, gaze steady and unflinching.

 _Chanyeol_ is the one who flinches, who messes up a move, stumbling a little. A hot red blush covers his face but he forces himself to move on. Placing a knee on the chair in front of him, he shakes his butt out, head facing downwards and hair flopping in his face.

His face reddens even more when he realises how clumsy he’s being with the pole, his moves aren’t fluid like Jongin, he’s not doing well. The nerves compound then, almost as if fed by the taunts of Chanyeol’s inner demons. He can feel himself stiffen, becoming even more clumsy.

Trying to calm himself down, Chanyeol bites the bottom of his lip. He’s a professional, what the fuck is he _doing_.

“Loey.”

Chanyeol stops.

His eyes are closed, he doesn’t want to see Baekhyun’s expression. He’s going to chew Chanyeol out, he’s going to ask for a refund. God. _God_.

“Y-yeah?” Chanyeol gulps, turning to face the man.

Instead of the angry, or even upset, expression Chanyeol was expecting to see. Baekhyun looks… soft. There’s a small smile gracing the corner of his lips and it throws the dancer off.

“Don’t be so nervous. You’re doing great, beautiful.”

The words send another flush through him, but it’s not embarrassment this time. Or maybe it is, but it’s mixed with something else. Embarrassment and… satisfaction.

“You look so lovely standing there, so beautiful, so _sexy_.”

Chanyeol chokes out a laugh, the warmth spreading through him. He’s so embarrassed but so, so satisfied and it’s hard to focus. He tries though, and he continues his routine, up closer now. This is the real lap dance. Right in front of Baekhyun, bending over with his ass in the other’s face.

“You’re allowed to touch,” he says softly, biting his lip and keeping his hands in his face. He’s so embarrassed, feels so juvenile. Like a newbie who doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“Am I?” Baekhyun says, and his voice is suddenly a lot deeper. It’s softer too, more intimate sounding now that Chanyeol is almost directly in his lap.

“Yes, touch me.”

Instead of the hand grabbing his ass, something that Chanyeol expects, he gets a soft touch at his hip. Chanyeol blinks. That… that wasn’t expected. Forcing himself not to fall out of the beat, he continues grinding his hips just above the man’s lap. He doesn’t want to give an air dance, and so he grinds down further, letting his ass sit on Baekhyun’s thighs.

The hand that was touching his hip wraps around his waist, fingers moving to slide along the divots of Chanyeol’s abs. His fingers are hot, burning the dancer’s skin, and Chanyeol throws a palm up to cover his embarrassed face, grinding harder into Baekhyun’s lap.

“Don’t cover your face, sunshine.” Baekhyun’s hand moves up to grip Chanyeol’s wrist, and he pulls the tall man’s hand away. It’s not like Baekhyun could really see Chanyeol’s face anyway, but he does force him to stop covering himself in embarrassment. “You’re beautiful, you’re doing wonderful.” A hand slides down the crease of Chanyeol’s back, slow and delicate. “Gorgeous,” he whispers.

Chanyeol bites his lip, hard.

Baekhyun seems to know the effect he has on the dancer, because he keeps going. He doesn’t say anything lewd, doesn’t talk about Chanyeol’s cock poking through his underwear. Instead, he calls Chanyeol pretty things, pretty words. He talks about Chanyeol’s shoulders, about how strong he looks.

Pushing off Baekhyun’s lap, Chanyeol bends down, moving his hand to lay on the man’s legs while his head rests on a strong shoulder. He rolls his body, hard thighs pressing against him. The music is set quite loud, but it feels muted to Chanyeol who is stuck near this man's lap, bodies glued almost sinfully together.

Baekhyun’s hot breath fans against his shoulder, shallow pants that are audible despite the thumping music. There’s a certain hardness growing steadily under Chanyeol’s lower back and ass, and the dancer grinds against it.

Turning around, Chanyeol moves to properly sit in Baekhyun’s lap. He makes sure that he doesn’t let his whole weight fall on the man’s thighs, knowing that he isn’t the lightest person around. He’s pressed close though, and as soon as he makes himself comfortable, two hands grip his hips.

“God,” Baekhyun breathes, staring him down. There’s a fire in his eyes, the same flame Chanyeol remembers seeing on-stage. “You’re so… _fuck_.”

The grip around his hips tightens then, fingers pushing deep into the skin. Their faces are close together, bodies even closer. There’s a brush against his cock, and he knows what it is.

“How do you like it?” Chanyeol manages to breathe out, watching the man’s expression change. From deep and heady, to more aware. “Is it… is it okay?”

Chanyeol knows he sounds unconfident, a little apprehensive about his moves. He wishes he didn’t sound like that, wishes he sounded sure of himself. He’s in this man’s lap, hips rotating and ass pressed hard against strong legs. The brush of a hardening erection against his own every once in a while gets him antsy, the unfailing gaze turning him hot.

“You’re wonderful, _so_ wonderful Loey,” Baekhyun holds him by the waist and rocks with him. “So beautiful.”

The praise sends that same tingling down Chanyeol’s spine, makes him bite his lip and throw his head back. All he wants is to be told he’s doing well, that he has half the skill of Jongin, of Yixing. And somehow, it seems like Baekhyun has caught onto this, has realised that Chanyeol feels something special every time the man whispers words of encouragement, of further praise.

Chanyeol continues his routine, slides his hips and ass and _cock_ all over the other’s lap, and Baekhyun worships him. Calls him beautiful, calls him talented, removes the fingers covering Chanyeol’s face when his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. There’s a kind of reverence to his tone, a soft and genuine quality that makes the words even more special.

When the dancer glances at his face, he can tell Baekhyun is fascinated by the way he reacts to the praise, can see the curious expression that deepens every time he whispers a further one. That intrigue spurs the man to say more, to shower Chanyeol with affectionate names, all while he keeps a hand by the dancer’s waist. He doesn’t move to grip further, nor does he step over any boundaries Chanyeol has set in place—not that there are many. He is the perfect patron.

All too soon is the dance over, and yet despite Chanyeol’s usual dislike for lap dances, he finds himself wanting to stay in Baekhyun’s lap. Not that he particularly likes the man over the others he’s danced for in the past, even if he is ridiculously attractive, but the _praise_.

Chanyeol hasn’t experienced praise like that before. He hasn’t been told that he was beautiful to this degree. Sure, men have cat-called him, hooted, yelled raunchy expletives at him more times than he could count—but never did they seem sincere. Not like this, not like Baekhyun.

Eventually when Chanyeol slides off the man’s lap, Baekhyun stands. His erection is noticeable, poking out from the sharply fitted material of his pants. He doesn’t look hindered however, and Chanyeol notes that he seems normal despite their session. Cool, perfect, in control.

“I hope you enjoyed that,” Chanyeol speaks, turning off the music. He grabs his gown but keeps his face turned downwards, a clump of hair falling into his eyes. After everything, he doesn’t know why he feels embarrassed. He thinks he’s embarrassed of his rather noticeable reaction to Baekhyun’s words, unable to stop the blush from rising to his cheeks at the praise. That’s pretty embarrassing.

“Of course,” Baekhyun says, and when Chanyeol raises his eyes, he sees a number of yellow bills. “I’ll definitely be back.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol breathes out, unable to stop looking at the money.

“Don’t be so embarrassed next time okay?” Baekhyun sends him one final glance, straightening his suit out and running a hand through his hair. He looks quite composed, but there’s a certain glint in his eyes that shakes Chanyeol. “You’re perfect.”

The next second—Baekhyun is gone.

Chanyeol runs a hand through his own hair, gingerly picking up the wad of yellow bills and counting the money.

A lot.

So much money.

Staring at the exit, Chanyeol holds the money against his chest. Who is Baekhyun?

Later, when he’s successfully removed his cock ring (he had kept it on for far too long), and is back to his normal entertaining duties, Jongdae finds him.

“Who was that man who asked for a lap dance in the private room?”

Chanyeol thinks back to scorching eyes and an even more blistering palm sliding up his waist. Words of saccharine praise and a fond, _genuine_ smile. “I don’t know.”

“Well he tipped a whole fucking _lot_ for you. Did you give him something… else?” Jongdae questions, keeping his voice casual. Chanyeol can hear the curiosity though, knows that he’s more than just a little nosy—especially since Chanyeol _never_ does extras, has never expressed any interest in providing other services for more buck.

“I didn’t,” Chanyeol shakes his head, inwardly stuck in his own thoughts. Baekhyun tipped even _more_? He thought the cash the man had given him was already extremely exorbitant, and to think he gave Jongdae another tip on top of that? “Just the standard.”

Jongdae hums before he reaches down and grabs a wad of cash. More yellow bills. “Well then, he’s someone we definitely want coming back. Here’s your 50%.”

Chanyeol takes the money, and holds it against his chest.

“Thanks Jongdae.”

*~*

Chanyeol’s day job consists of full-time work at his local convenience store. He’s been working there for nearly three years now, ever since his parents had passed away. It’s not the best job, doesn’t pay as much as he wishes it did, but it’s something. And something is all that matters currently.

In the interim, he’s searched for other work. He’s tried out a few other places—a bakery, an electronics store, a restaurant—but none of them really worked out. Bars and other night jobs are useless too since he’s always on stand-by for his _other_ work. That’s the problem of moonlighting as an exotic dancer, he can’t sustain night jobs.

The Bachelor’s degree he acquired after studying a few years of Music Composition is still hidden under his belt, and he prays that he’ll catch his big break soon. But for the time being, Chanyeol is stuck in the convenience store. Which isn’t the worst. Ever since Sehun had started working with him, Chanyeol’s found some company.

“Do you think that Kim will pay us more if we get more customers?” Sehun asks, arm resting on a long bench. He’s in charge of the small fresh cooked food section they have in the back of their store, always on hand to serve hotteok and other goodies to hungry visitors. Currently, he’s just lying with Chanyeol, watching a few people walk around the aisles.

“No,” Chanyeol replies with a sigh.

“Well that sucks, I was about to ask you if you could do your, you know, _routine_ ,” he does a little wiggle with the word routine, eyebrows following the movement, “outside the store. We’d definitely get more customers then.”

Raising his own eyebrows, Chanyeol snorts. “I never should have told you.”

“Nah,” Sehun shakes his head. “It’s great. Honestly. I have a _stripper_ friend. How many people get to say they have a stripper friend?”

Chanyeol shrugs. He has a lot of stripper friends. Being _in_ the business, he might be in the exception, though.

“Besides, I’ve been meaning to ask…” Sehun sidles up closer to Chanyeol, body almost touching the other.

Cocking his head to the side, Chanyeol speaks. “What’s up Sehunnie?”

“Would I be able to get a job there too?”

Chanyeol blinks. That's unexpected.

“Why is that?”

As far as Chanyeol knows, Sehun isn’t poor. Chanyeol doesn’t really know what the other tends to do when he isn’t working in the store, but the elder man has seen jackets and pants and fancy watches that scream wealth. Sehun’s careful not to mention anything money-wise around him, but Chanyeol knows this is a part-time job for him, in the background of whatever he does for a living.

“I’ve just been, you know,” he waves his hand around in the air, exuding an air of nonchalance, “interested in the idea for awhile now.”

“Really?” Chanyeol wishes he was the same. Wishes he was just interested in dancing for people. Obviously, he enjoys it to an extent. The pay is good, and he always gets a tingling in the base of his spine whenever he thinks about the praises men lather upon him. But at the same time, he wouldn’t be working there if he didn’t have to be.

It’s strange to think that Sehun actively wants an in on the business, for no reason other than just being interested.

Currently, he doesn’t think Jongdae is looking for more dancers. Chanyeol’s been taking Jimin’s Saturday night shifts ever since the other dancer pulled out due to real-life stress. As much as Chanyeol loves Jimin, he’s been getting a _lot_ more buck on Saturdays. If Sehun gets a job, then Chanyeol will probably be delegated back to his usual Wednesday and Thursday schedule again. They’ve been out clubbing together, Chanyeol’s seen the other dance.

Despite that, Sehun is his friend. They’ve been working in this god awful store for nearly a year together now, and Sehun did save his _life_ once when Chanyeol nearly got hit by a fucking rogue car. So, really, he owes him a lot.

“I’ll ask the owner,” Chanyeol replies a little belatedly, once he’s realised that Sehun is waiting for an answer. “Should be all okay.”

Sehun bumps him in the shoulder, wide smile plastered on his face. “Thanks hyung. Maybe we might even get to dance together.”

*~*

That Thursday, Chanyeol takes Sehun to Chen’s.

By that Friday, Sehun already has a job.

Chanyeol is in the middle of working the floor, talking to customers and gauging the general vibe of the club, when he sees Sehun on stage. A smile crosses Chanyeol’s face as he watches the younger man, twirling around the pole and spreading his legs wide. He isn’t the most skilled, his dance moves limited, but Chanyeol can already tell that he’s going to be a hit. Maybe even as good as Jongin.

There’s already a number of people hounding by his stage, throwing money on him. He has a beautiful body, and it looks even nicer when the stage lights reflect off it.

“He’s pretty good,” Kris says, nodding in Sehun’s direction. Chanyeol doesn’t miss the man’s appreciative glance. “Your friend?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol nods with a wide grin. He’s proud of Sehun. “Practically my son.”

Kris snorts, wiping down the table before he takes another glass and makes a drink. He slides it in front of Chanyeol and garnishes it with the same apple twirl he’s been starting to expect.

“This is for you,” Kris says.

“He’s here?” Chanyeol questions, looking around. He can see Sehun dancing, along with Minseok and Yixing. There’s a few boys on the floor, Hoseok and Yukwon, but his mystery man is nowhere to be seen.

“Over there,” Kris nods towards the left side of the club, back to where Chanyeol had seen the man the first time.

And, yes, there he is. Baekhyun’s wearing a dark wine coloured dress shirt this time, the shade looking even darker under the dim lighting of the club. He’s caressing a glass of amber liquid, probably some kind of foul whiskey that would make Chanyeol’s face scrunch. He’s as handsome as ever as he watches Sehun on stage, but it doesn’t take him long to find Chanyeol’s gaze, and once he does, he raises his glass with a smirk.

Ever since their first encounter, Baekhyun’s been visiting the club almost religiously. It’s been a few weeks, and now whenever Chanyeol arrives, the dancer almost expects to see the other man. Sometimes he doesn’t stay long, just for a drink and for _Chanyeol_ to have a drink. Other times he stays for Chanyeol’s routine _and_ a lap dance. Chanyeol loves those times, loves it when Baekhyun calls him pretty names and tells him how good he is. It’s something he knows he shouldn’t encourage, but he can’t help himself. The money he gets too isn’t bad either.

“Did he order anything else?” Chanyeol asks, taking a sip of his drink. Occasionally, he glances in Baekhyun’s direction and he tries to stop himself from preening when he sees the other stare back.

“Hmm,” Kris hums, wet cloth in hand. “You’ll have to ask Kyungsoo.”

Fine, whatever. He has a feeling Baekhyun will be staying back tonight.

Soon after Chanyeol’s finished his drink, Jongdae pats his back and tells him to get to work. With a carefully constructed smile, Chanyeol goes to work the floor. He hasn’t danced yet, and so what he’s wearing consists of pants—overalls—while his top half is covered by scanty pieces of denim fabric. The customers gaze at him, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of Baekhyun’s stare. As the minutes tick by, and as he gets closer and closer to Baekhyun, the warmth in Chanyeol’s stomach grows.

“Good evening,” Chanyeol grins, wide and toothy. “Would you like to upgrade to VIP?”

Baekhyun laughs and Chanyeol’s stomach sizzles happily. Can he blame himself for being excited for more money? A Baekhyun night guarantees an abundance of cash.

“No, not tonight Loey.” Baekhyun smiles back at him. He reaches an arm across the couch, one leg draped over the other. “I booked a dance with you for later on, though.”

“Ooh,” Chanyeol nods once, mentally scheduling that in. “It’s nice to see you though,” he adds, feeling slightly embarrassed by the confession. He rubs at the back of his elbow, eyes crinkling shyly.

“It’s nice to see you too,” Baekhyun’s smile bleeds wider. “It’s always nice to see you.”

Sitting tall, Chanyeol tries to ignore the pleasure he feels at the words. Hard. It’s very hard.

On some level, Chanyeol knows that Baekhyun is merely playing him. There’s no real fondness, no real sincerity. As much as Chanyeol is impressed by the other’s expressions—the soft looks, the even softer words—he forces himself to remember that this is just a game for Baekhyun. A master of deception, just in the same way Chanyeol has learnt to respond in kind.

He’s been through his own training, lessons surrounding how to charm and beguile, and that’s what he uses back on all the men he encounters. But with how often Baekhyun seems to be coming, throwing both money and praises on Chanyeol, the dancer finds himself wondering if his own responses are all merely learned response.

Checking his phone, Chanyeol apologetically cocks his head to the side. “I still have a little more floor work before I can attend to you. Do you want anything else in the mean time?”

Baekhyun brushes him off with a quick wave, but the smile he sends has Chanyeol biting his lip.

It doesn’t take long before Chanyeol’s gone through the rest of the customers. Most are enamoured by the boys on stage, and he only has to refill a few drinks. It’s still early in the night though, so early that there’s not even a cover fee yet.

He’s just about done dealing with a group of women, rowdy after a long day at work, when Sehun comes bumbling beside him.

“How’d it go?” Chanyeol nudges the other in the shoulder. Nudges the _dancer_ in the shoulder, because Sehun is a dancer now after all.

The younger man is grinning wildly, a sheen of sweat covering his bare skin. He’s in three-quarter length khaki shorts since Jongdae let him off easy with ‘first day words of encouragement’. Whatever the hell that means. Chanyeol doesn’t think he got this special service.

“Yeah man,” Sehun breathes out. “Great.”

He’s bubbling with excited energy, a sheen of sweat covering his top half. Chanyeol smiles at the sight, remembering what he felt when he danced for the first time. His own reaction was similar to Sehun’s, the exhilaration of a new experience. If anything, Sehun seems even more excited than Chanyeol had been back then, wide grin visible.

“I’m glad,” Chanyeol claps a hand on the man’s bare shoulder with a soft smile. “Just, watch out okay? The boys may offer you some stuff, and it’s up to you if you want it or not, but don’t feel any pressure to accept.”

“Stuff?” Sehun pauses, breathing deep. His face remains exceptionally blank.

“Drugs,” Chanyeol speaks, a bit louder. “A lot of the boys are on a few different things. Mostly coke and M though.”

“M as in…” the other prompts, interested.

“In ecstasy form,” Chanyeol clarifies, running a hand through his hair. He wouldn’t usually speak so candidly about the drug usage a lot of their boys seem to participate in, especially when the business is so god damn illegal and shady, but Chanyeol doesn’t want Sehun falling into something he can’t get out of. “You’ll find it everywhere here.”

Sehun nods once and Chanyeol bites the corner of his lip. He doesn’t like to police others, hasn’t said anything to the guys that take drugs on the regular. It’s part of this lifestyle. Their club isn’t legal, the prostitution isn’t legal—Chanyeol is a part of the whole business, he can’t just suddenly act all high and mighty because he isn’t an advocate of drugs.

Except, at the same time, he knows how this works. Chanyeol knows that some of the boys are dealers, some are even mules, closely related to the underground drug syndicate that’s keeping most of Itaewon’s seedier businesses thriving. And despite how interconnected they are to that scene, with the restrictions on drug trade, most of the shit that’s brought into Chen’s isn’t the purest. Especially their ecstasy, when it’s in pressed pill form.

“It’s not my place to say anything, because if you want to do it, then you want to do it but…” he begins, cocking his head to the side. Sehun is watching him carefully, a guarded expression on his face. Chanyeol’s never talked about drugs with Sehun before, doesn’t know the man’s stance on the substances, but this is something important, and he isn’t going to back out talking about this even if he does feel uncomfortable. “I can’t guarantee the quality, a lot of it is heavily adulterated. Since it’s ecstasy, they often have a lot of other substances in it too. As filler. Sometimes it’s nothing harmful, like caffeine, but copy-cat pills are becoming increasingly common. Lots of other shit, you gotta be careful. Think you’re taking M, but turns out you’re taking 2C-B. You’re lucky 2C-B isn’t super risky, but you don’t want to be tripping on a psychedelic when you’re dancing.”

“You seem to know a lot about this stuff,” Sehun notes, running a hand through his sweat-slick hair. His voice is soft, neutral, and Chanyeol doesn’t know that means. “Are you… a user?”

What a personal question.

“No.” He shakes his head twice.

Definitely not. Not when the man who killed his parents only did so because he was on a cocktail of substances.

“I’ll keep this in mind though, thanks for telling me Chanyeol,” Sehun gives him a tight smile.

“No worries, any time. I have more work to do, I’ll catch you later?”

When Sehun nods back at him, Chanyeol walks off. The club is steadily getting more and more busy, the night finally reaching its peak. Fridays are busy and Chanyeol has to work harder to compensate that. He doesn’t mind though, not when his bank account itself is being thoroughly compensated as a result.

He feels a bit on edge after his conversation with Sehun. He couldn’t gauge the other’s stance on drugs. Chanyeol knows his friend won’t say a word, he wouldn’t _out_ their whole business, not when he just started working for Jongdae. The drug usage at Chen’s is something that’s remained kind of there but not there. It’s part of the culture, as prevalent as the alcohol that courses through most of their patrons' veins. Chanyeol knows how widespread it is, he just… doesn’t like it.

A personal choice, of course. 

Eventually, he gets lost in his headspace, eager to work through the night. All the while, Chanyeol keeps an eye out on Baekhyun. The man lounges on the couch, glass of whiskey always refilled. He watches the boys on stage, but more often than not, Chanyeol catches eyes staring back at him. The lingering stares make him giddy, makes his blood fizzle under his skin. The attention makes him act even more seductive, turns him pliant but sensual as he serves the rest of the patrons.

He’s never had someone so interested in him before. There’s that one creepy guy, the Rock as everyone calls him. Arrives early enough that he doesn’t have to pay the cover fee and never tips, ever. Bad business and bad manners too. Not someone Chanyeol has ever felt giddy over.

Baekhyun though—there’s something about Baekhyun’s grins, and the heat in his unwavering gaze, that makes Chanyeol want to do good. Makes Chanyeol want to please.

And so he does.

“Hello,” Chanyeol grins wide when he’s finished his floor work and plops himself down on the couch next to Baekhyun. It’s a bit unprofessional, and the way he curls his legs into the chair is somewhat childish too, but the other doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. Instead, he takes a sip of his drink and sends the dancer an equally happy smile. “Hope I didn’t make you wait too long.”

“It’s fine, beautiful.”

Chanyeol’s grin deepens, banishing thoughts of boys and drugs—and boys on drugs—out of his brain.

“Well, if you’d like to follow me…”

*~*

Sehun settles well at Chen’s.

He doesn’t say anything about drugs, doesn’t speak a word about hitting up any of the boys. Chanyeol knows there’s coke being circulated—he was given a wink when he walked backstage, their tell-tale sign that someone had brought some in. But Sehun doesn’t say a word about any substances. He doesn’t even blink when a blunt is passed directly among the boys. Chanyeol doesn’t take a hit, and neither does Sehun for that matter.

Other than that, Sehun works well.

Chanyeol should’ve expected it, but the other man easily becomes apart of the team. Sehun is good at dancing, good at making the patrons pay for what they want. One day he’ll rival Jongin, Chanyeol’s sure of it.

It should make Chanyeol jealous, and it does to an extent, but he discards those thoughts away. Sehun deserves the attention even if he’s new, but most importantly, Sehun is his _friend_. Sehun works with him at the convenience store—has helped him deal with rude customers, the lone robber they had that one time (whipped out some crazy ninja skills too. Really shocked the hell out of Chanyeol _and_ the scared shitless robber), and he saved Chanyeol’s life.

So in reality, Chanyeol _shouldn’t_ be jealous at all. And he isn’t. Really. He isn’t.

Not even when Sehun somehow has taken Baekhyun’s attention.

Chanyeol had arrived a little late today, stuck in highway work traffic on his way back from Yoora’s place. Jongdae had merely brushed him off and the dancer thought that was that. It wasn’t until he was ready to start floor work that he passed the bar and was stopped by Kris.

“Your man has a new ATF?”

“Huh?” Chanyeol frowns. All-time favourite?

“Over there,” the bartender nods off in a very familiar direction. Chanyeol’s used to staring that way, used to keeping an eye out just in-case a certain someone was looking. For once, that certain someone isn’t looking, rather he’s staring at a tall figure sitting next to him. “He doesn’t usually ask for anyone but you.”

“Yeah…” Chanyeol says, with a gulp. There’s a strange feeling brewing inside of his stomach and he’s pretty sure it has something to do with the scene that’s unfolding right in front of him. Scratch that. He _knows_ it has to do with the sight of Sehun sitting close to Baekhyun, the older man seeming very intent and serious, like he _wants_ something from Sehun.

“Sehun arrived only just before you did,” Kris continues, leaning over the table with a shrug. “But as soon as he came, Mr. Money asked for him immediately.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol replies, short-worded. He doesn’t know what to say, what to think. Inwardly, he knows he’s being stupid. The jealousy he’s feeling is not only dumb but _unnecessary_. In reality, he should be glad that his friend is receiving Baekhyun’s undivided attention. There aren’t many customers that tip like Baekhyun does, and so it’s an honour to receive his curiosity.

Sehun sits close to Baekhyun, leg nearly brushing the older man’s thigh. Chanyeol can see them talking, can see the way Baekhyun’s lips open and close, voice probably low and sensual. What is he saying? The same things he whispers in Chanyeol’s ear?

_Pretty_

_Beautiful_

_You’re stunning_

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Chanyeol forces himself to remain calm. Jealousy is overrated. He signals Kris, and lies back on his chair. There’s a niggling inside of him to keep an eye on Sehun, just to see what the other man is doing. Chanyeol knows it’s not his business, it’s not even close to being his business, and yet.

He shoots a quick glance in their direction and doesn’t know what feelings burn inside of him when he sees them still huddled close in mid-conversation.

_Strong legs_

_Beautiful thighs_

_Gorgeous eyes_

Kris places the shot glass in front of him and Chanyeol immediately knocks it back. His expression sours at the foul taste, hastily grabbing a slice of lemon and biting into it.

It doesn’t take long before Chanyeol’s working the floor, sidling up to customers and doing the usual work. He has to dance soon but currently he’s still wearing quite modest clothing, nothing overly scanty. Since taking the vodka shot, Chanyeol hasn’t even so much as glanced in Baekhyun’s direction. He doesn’t feel jealous—well, maybe a little, but those feelings are granted when Baekhyun’s been lathering only _him_ with attention. Chanyeol likes hearing the praises on the man’s tongue, likes knowing that some people prefer him to the other beauties on stage. The fact that Baekhyun had chosen him and not _Jongin_ is almost unbelievable, and really, Chanyeol should’ve expected to be dropped.

Maybe Baekhyun loves tall men—it makes sense. That’s why he’s now engrossed by Sehun. Really, it was inevitable. Sehun’s like an upgraded version of Chanyeol. Tall, even more gorgeous, lithe and strong. A great dancer. He’s sexier too, a lot sexier than Chanyeol’s bumbling.

Baekhyun probably realised he wasn’t getting as great of a deal as he could’ve been.

Time passes quite slow when Chanyeol’s forcing himself not to look in Baekhyun’s direction. He knows Sehun has left the other, he’s seen Sehun tending other customers. Despite this, Chanyeol hasn’t set foot in Baekhyun’s area.

He knows it’s petty, and more than that, it’s _childish_ but, sue him for feeling a little expendable. He doesn’t know Baekhyun as a person, doesn’t have the emotional capacity to miss him and be jealous of Sehun—or any other boys—but there’s been expectation brewing inside of Chanyeol. Expectation that has come from weeks of Baekhyun lavishing him with praises, weeks of Baekhyun throwing money on him. He feels spoilt, but that’s what’s happened. Chanyeol’s built some kind of assumption that he’ll be spoiled by the older man.

When he stops and thinks about it, he realises just how juvenile he’s being. Chanyeol feels like he’s been thrown back in preschool and is fighting over a toy.

Whatever, he shakes his head. This is something he’ll get over soon enough. Baekhyun was never meant to be a constant.

When Chanyeol steps on stage, he ignores Baekhyun’s staring. Instead, he focuses on his dance and does what he’s meant to do. He’s a professional. Besides, Baekhyun can stare. Baekhyun is allowed to stare at whoever he wants to in this establishment, Chanyeol just needs a few hours—maybe days—to realise that.

A new wave of confidence flows through him at the reminder. The minimal jealousy he feels because of Sehun is stupid, Chanyeol doesn’t need to focus on that.

He holds his gown in his arms when he finishes, charisma pumping through his lungs. More than just a few bills line the edge of the stage, a number of appreciative glances eyeing his way. It’s exhilarating knowing that people find him enticing, find him beautiful enough to throw money on him.

“Looked good, sexy.”

“Not as good as you, sexier,” Chanyeol replies back, bumping Sehun in the shoulder. His friend grins wide, blending concealer under his eyes. There’s a spot of liquid left untouched by the crease of his eyelid and Chanyeol quickly moves to fix it. “Wait, here.”

For the tiniest miniscule of a second, Chanyeol felt the urge to ignore Sehun. The briefest, most stupid miniscule of a second he has ever lived. He knows it has something to do with that stupid jealousy, but before he could ever focus on those feelings, Chanyeol brushed it away. Sehun is his friend, that’s not something that’s going to change— _especially_ not over a customer.

But because of Chanyeol focusing on Sehun and Baekhyun’s special time, he doesn’t expect Kyungsoo clambering up to him and saying that there’s a private room booked waiting for him.

“What?” He replies, shocked.

“Your room?” Kyungsoo looks equally confused, like he doesn’t understand why Chanyeol isn’t just getting it. He points towards Baekhyun’s direction. “Your man?”

“My… man?” But Baekhyun _isn’t_ his man. Isn’t that what the whole Sehun thing implied? That Baekhyun wants other people too. Although wait a second, Chanyeol thinks. Just because Baekhyun wants other people, doesn’t mean that Baekhyun still doesn’t want Chanyeol.

He nibbles at the corner of his bottom lip. That makes sense.

Actually, it helps Chanyeol puts things into perspective. Helps him take a step back and realise just what he’s doing here. He’s one of the many dancers, and Baekhyun can like more than one.

It’s not like he’s developed any real feelings for Baekhyun. Of course not. There’s just been expectation. Wrongful expectation? Maybe, maybe not. Either way, Chanyeol knows that Baekhyun is really here for release of some kind and with the amount of money he’s spending each night he comes, there shouldn’t be any expectation that he’s going to always want Chanyeol.

So, Chanyeol keeps this in mind when he goes to serve the man, smile plastered on his face.

But his calm composure crumbles almost immediately.

“Hi beautiful.”

Baekhyun’s smiling at him, the same gorgeous grin he always seems to have curling his lips upwards. It’s soft and stunning, turning his eyes into crescent shapes. He’s dressed as immaculately as usual, a different dress shirt each and every time. The fabric looks expensive, something European, well-fitting and striking.

He pats the seat next to him, expecting Chanyeol to fall back against the couch. Now this, this is what is expected of him. This is what Chanyeol should expect instead. And so he does sit back on the couch, throwing on a practiced expression.

“Hi Baekhyun,” Chanyeol dips his head slightly and looks through his eyelashes, sultry. “How are you?”

Baekhyun’s lips widen, not seeming to notice anything different. Chanyeol _is_ a professional after all.

“Better, now that you’re here.”

It’s the typical kind of flirting Chanyeol is used to. Baekhyun lathers him with sweet words and then Chanyeol dances for him. He’s gotten good at it, knows what Baekhyun likes. The moves that Baekhyun likes him to do. Chanyeol likes sitting in his lap, rubbing his ass against the man’s slacks. Chanyeol likes when he receives a hand slithering up his hips and waist, gently groping as he moves seductively.

Even now, Baekhyun is staring at him with those eyes. Hot and almost as fiery as his orangey-bronze hair. Chanyeol wonders how old he is. Late twenties? Early thirties? Mid thirties? He wonders what Baekhyun does. How does he have so much spare cash to throw on Chanyeol? Spare cash to buy top shelf whiskey from an already over-priced bar. Cash to buy expensive European suits, one for every day of the week. Maybe even every day of the year.

“How was your week, Loey?” Baekhyun asks him once they arrive in the private room. He’s sitting down in the chair he knows is his, voice as soft as his expression. “Doing well?”

“I..” Chanyeol shakes his head, forcing that smile back on his face. He tinkers with the sound-system. “It was good, thank you. How about you?”

“Mm, had a bit of trouble with some… partners in the beginning of the week,” Baekhyun waves his delicate hand in the air and lets his shoulders fall with a shrug. “I wanted to see you but I know you don’t work Mondays.”

“Partners?” Chanyeol asks, brazen, shameless. He’s curious. Placing his gown on a lone table, he walks towards the man and sits in his lap. Then, he wraps his arms around two broad shoulders, making himself comfortable. He likes the hands that grip his waist. “Work partners?”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun smiles, tongue dipping out to lick his bottom lip. They’re so close to each other, Chanyeol’s eyes immediately drop downwards to watch the movement in interest. “Work partners,” he agrees.

The man doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t explain further. He’s staring at Chanyeol’s lips though. Brown carefully locked on the dancer’s face. Pulling himself back, and disentangling himself from Baekhyun’s almost _drowning_ orbit, Chanyeol speaks.

“Is that why you asked for someone else?”

He immediately regrets the words as soon as he says them. They just… fall. The words tumbling out without any real thought. The memories of Sehun and Baekhyun were just lingering in the back of his head, unable to leave, and Chanyeol opened his big, _dumb_ mouth and blurted everything out. Brilliant.

He’s such a big attention-seeker, always wanting praise. That’s what he’s jealous of. Knowing that Baekhyun would probably say the same things to Sehun. Call him pet-names like _precious_ or _darling_. Maybe even sweetheart.

At the same time, he didn’t mean to say anything. Didn’t mean to even blurt out the slightest mention of his feelings. Chanyeol keeps telling himself that he’s a professional, but maybe that’s a lie.

He doesn’t look at Baekhyun’s expression. Instead he casts his eyes downwards, immediately sitting back. He’s still on the other man’s lap, legs clasped like two strong poles, but there’s a distance between their upper-bodies, especially their faces.

“Loey…” Baekhyun’s voice sounds fond, perhaps even slightly amused? “Are you upset I asked for someone else?”

“No,” Chanyeol shakes his head immediately, voice deep. He runs a hand through his hair, feeling his cheeks heat up substantially. “Of course not.”

“Really?” The man asks, two hands gripping Chanyeol’s hips. A thumb brushes above the band of the dancer’s underwear, wafting against the uncovered skin. It’s a move that’s slightly intimate, more than Chanyeol would allow a simple customer. But is Baekhyun just a simple customer? “Are you sure about that?”

He continues to rub circles into Chanyeol’s skin, thumb spiralling.  

“Yes, of course not,” he responds, eyes locked on the cracked wall-paper. He avoids the man’s gaze, forcing his voice to remain strong. “You are allowed to see whoever you want.”

Chanyeol forces his gaze to stay on the wall, counts the multitude of crosses and lines, little folds that show breakage. He stays quiet even when Baekhyun’s hand, long and lithe, rides up past his underwear band and paths the groove of his spine. Tensing his legs, Chanyeol forces himself not to shiver, not to focus on the feather-light touch running past his scapula and towards the back of his neck.

“Am I?” Baekhyun asks, voice low. His usual higher-pitched scratchy voice has deepened, has turned dark and smoky. A hair’s breadth away from a whisper. “Am I really allowed, darling?”

Despite staring at the wall, Chanyeol can feel Baekhyun shift closer to him. The space between their torsos diminish, fabric brushing his stomach.

“It doesn’t seem like I’m allowed.”

“You are,” Chanyeol responds, gulping. Two hands are running along his back. The touching isn’t necessarily _not_ allowed, but it’s more than he usually accepts. A simple grip to his ass that lasts for barely five seconds is nothing compared to this extensive pathing, fingers lining his spine and turning his skin numb. “You are allowed. Of course you are.”

“Hmm,” Baekhyun hums. In Chanyeol’s peripheral vision, he can see a lock of bronze hair fall into the man’s eye. Can see a smirk turning his smile smug. “Maybe I am. Technically, I am…” he drags a nail down Chanyeol’s spine and watches the tall man contain his shiver. “... but do you allow me to?”

“Of course I allow you,” Chanyeol responds, voice highlighting just how stupid he finds the question.

“Okay, perhaps, not allow me but…” Baekhyun moves his face closer, closer, nose slinking to touch at Chanyeol’s collarbone. The dancer gulps, again. “... do you want me to?”

There are hands staining his back, a nose touching his neck. Barely any space is left between them, stark heat blooming with every press of skin on skin. Chanyeol can feel his blood boiling, his heart pounding slightly fast with every lingering touch. Baekhyun’s nose dips into his clavicle, curls up his shoulder. There hasn’t been any presses of lips on his skin. Not yet at least, but Chanyeol knows that if he doesn’t put a stop now, things _will_ escalate.

This is a turning point of some point. He’s never allowed extras, never wanted to allow any form of special service. It seems wrong to suddenly change his decision just because he’s sitting on an attractive man’s lap—even if said attractive man throws wads of bills at him on the regular.

Chanyeol has his morals set, has his own value system set. Prostitution isn’t something he has ever wanted to delve into. He knows a few boys that offer the service, and he has nothing against them at all. It’s a personal decision and Chanyeol respects that.

It’s just never been something for him.

And yet, now. Chanyeol’s never felt like he’s needed to contemplate his prostitution stance, because it’s always been a firm _no_. He knows that Baekhyun will give him money at the end. Baekhyun likes stuffing bills down his underwear.

Now though, now with Baekhyun practically hugging him close, hands and the faint brush of lips lingering by the juncture of his neck—now Chanyeol isn’t too sure.

“Loey,” Baekhyun breathes, hot air burning Chanyeol’s skin. “Are you going to answer me, beautiful? Do you want me for yourself?”

“I…” Chanyeol swallows, curling his face downwards. “Baekhyun…”

It’s this whisper of the man’s name, the slight hesitance colouring his tone that Chanyeol _knows_ is noticeable, that causes Baekhyun to pull back. The other’s hands drop from the dancer’s waist, nose and lips now gone from the expanse of Chanyeol’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun speaks immediately, eyebrows furrowing. “I didn’t mean to push your boundaries. D.O. told me you didn’t provide extra service, I’m sorry.”

Shaking his head, Chanyeol clears his throat. “Don’t apologise.”

Don’t apologise when Chanyeol doesn’t even know what just happened. On some level he wanted Baekhyun to do that, to run his nose and lips up his jaw. It felt intimate, and he knew he would’ve accepted the kisses if he hadn’t been thinking about the consequences.

“Sorry,” Chanyeol gets up, and shakes his head. He feels especially tall when he sees Baekhyun still stuck in his seat, shoulders broad but face and hands delicate. Swallowing another gulp of saliva, he runs a hand through his hair. “Let me dance for you.”

“Of course, baby.”

Baekhyun seems to make an effort not to make the atmosphere feel strange between them. And Chanyeol knows it shouldn’t. He has the right to pull away from pushy customers, he doesn’t _do_ extras. But he knows on some level, he really wanted to kiss Baekhyun.

The only things he knows about the man is the scent of his favourite cologne, the squeaky clean shine of his normal pair of leather loafers, and the fact that he loves calling Chanyeol by adoring pet-names.

Despite this, Chanyeol kind of wants to know how it would feel if Baekhyun kissed him. Would he be soft and sweet? Hard and dominant? A mixture of both?

As he dances for the man, the music loud in the otherwise silent room, Chanyeol keeps his eyes on the other, teeth biting hard into his bottom lip. He’s become somewhat confident in his moves, knowing what Baekhyun likes. He leans down towards the floor and shakes his ass. Then, he sits on his lap and pulls the man’s tie, grinding into the elder’s lap.

“How am I doing, hyung?” He whispers into the other’s ear. “Is this okay?”

“Perfect, Loey.” Baekhyun responds, but he keeps his hands away from Chanyeol’s hips, making the dancer frown. “You’ve gotten so confident, darling. So sexy.”

He grabs Baekhyun’s hands and places them back around his hips, the compliments rushing through him. Pure joy. “You’re allowed to, remember.”

Baekhyun is allowed to touch but he doesn’t really. He ghosts his hands around Chanyeol’s hips and ass, barely even touching his waist when the dancer finishes his routine and moves to stand up.

He feels unsatisfied, that despite his dance and practice and _confidence_ in making Baekhyun feel good, the man received less.

“You didn’t touch me,” Chanyeol notes when Baekhyun is taking out his wallet. He frowns at the amount of money. “Why didn’t you touch me?”

“Are you really asking me why I didn’t touch you?” He sounds slightly amused, turning around to face the dancer.

“Yeah.”

“I’m not here to overstep your boundaries, Loey,” Baekhyun speaks clearly, thumbing a few notes. He walks closer to Chanyeol and delicately shoves them into the waistband of his underwear. “I want you to feel comfortable around me.”

“But I do feel comfortable,” he says, immediately taking the money.

“Really?” Baekhyun hums, hands in his pockets. He glances at the tall man, as if gauging just how he truly feels. “Next time then, okay darling?”

Chanyeol nods once, heavy.

Baekhyun leaves with the ghost of a smile on his face, the corners of his lips curling upwards and sending a legion of butterflies running through Chanyeol’s stomach.

Clenching the money in his hand, Chanyeol takes one last look at the room and turns the lights off with a soft click.

*~*

Despite what Chanyeol said, Baekhyun doesn’t ask for Sehun anymore. Baekhyun doesn’t ask for anyone but their tallest dancer. He remains solely “Chanyeol’s man” and is called as such by the rest of their staff.

Usually his schedule consists of ordering a glass of finely aged whiskey—probably to cover the entry fee he doesn’t have to pay by arriving early enough. Then, he watches Chanyeol on stage for his earlier dances and occasionally stays for a lap dance.

He touches Chanyeol, is made to when the dancer forcibly drags his hands to grip his ass and hips. What he doesn’t do is overstep his boundaries, not even like he might have a few weeks prior. Ever since that one time, Baekhyun’s made sure not to touch Chanyeol inappropriately, a perfect patron. It should make him feel reassured, that Baekhyun isn’t as unhinged as the rest of the sleazy customers, but for some absurd reason it just makes the dancer feel worse.

It doesn’t take long for him to realise that on some level, he wants that touch, just in the same way he wants the other’s attention. He likes being stared at, likes being called pretty names, and he _likes_ when Baekhyun grabs his ass.

He gets booked for other lap dances, and he always has to pull back from the touching, reminding the customer to not get too frisky with their hands. And yet with Baekhyun, he doesn’t say a word, secretly wishing for that extra attention.

Not that Chanyeol ever shows his neediness, always pulling back with a polite and yet seductive smile. Baekhyun is merely a customer that he has a lust-crush on.

“How are you tonight, pretty?” Baekhyun asks when Chanyeol comes to refill his glass. “I like the bracelet.” He eyes the band hanging around the dancer’s wrist. It’s a dark opal and silver mix, dainty and yet snug.

“Thank you,” Chanyeol nods, smiling wide. He glances at the metal, thumb dragging along the surface. “It was my mother’s.”

He likes to wear it during this time of the year, when the date of their death anniversary comes near. It’s his own reminder and promise, to never forget.

Baekhyun seems to notice the change in Chanyeol’s expression, and he quietens, placing his glass on the table. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

The dancer shrugs, a throw-away smile on his face. “It’s okay, been a few years. Car accident. They said the driver was on drugs.”

He takes a deep breath, trying to still the multitude of emotions burning in his chest. They said the driver was on drugs, the collision so strong both parties were killed on impact. Major injuries, and so horrific Chanyeol was not allowed to see the bodies. Wasn’t even allowed to identify their bodies. A closed casket funeral, obviously.

Biting his lip, he counts the seconds, pausing when he feels a hand grip at his.

Baekhyun’s not smiling, looks rather somber, but the expression on his face is comforting. Sympathetic yes, but relatable. Like he understands. Chanyeol squeezes the man’s hand back, thankful. Has he lost someone too?

“Despite it being a few years, I’m still sorry to hear that,” Baekhyun says, rubbing his thumb along the bone of Chanyeol’s finger.

It’s interesting looking at their entwined hands, seeing the difference. Chanyeol’s palms and fingers are thick, wide and rough. Manly hands, he was told as a teenager. Almost bigger than his sister’s face, he remembers her saying in jest. Meanwhile, Baekhyun’s hands are thin. They’re not especially small, just dainty. Lithe, long and beautiful. He has very beautiful hands.

“That’s okay,” Chanyeol squeezes Baekhyun again, swallowing down the taste of soft longing. For some reason, he can feel the stinging in the back of his eyes, a familiar tightening burning his chest. If he doesn’t stop himself, he’s going to start tearing up and that’s definitely _not_ sexy and _not_ something he wants to show Baekhyun.

“Hey.” The man’s voice is soft, strikingly sweet. His thumb keeps rubbing the corner of Chanyeol’s lower knuckles, the motions consistent. “It’s okay, let it out.”

Licking his lips, Chanyeol forces himself to remain calm. Despite Baekhyun’s soft words, he doesn’t want to break down. It’s not the _time_ to break down.

“My father passed away when I was 19.” Baekhyun begins, surprising Chanyeol into remaining silent. “It was a big shock to everyone, no one knew it was going to happen.”

The man sighs, holding onto Chanyeol’s hand, tight. He turns away, face suddenly looking a lot older.

“We have a… a kind-of family run business. My elder brother was supposed to take over whenever it needed be, but he… he didn’t want to. Ran away from it. And so it was me, 19-year-old me who had no training whatsoever, suddenly pushed into it,” Baekhyun lets out a sigh, free hand running through his bronze locks. “It wasn’t easy… not at all. Not only did I have to learn everything but, my father just _died_. I was supposed to act under pressure, that was what was expected of me—but I was 19. 19-years-old with a dead father and an AWOL brother,” he snorts, but it’s something bitter. A little cruel.

Chanyeol grips his fingers tighter.

“Eventually I got over it, and you know, time tends to heal wounds… but I hated it when people made it seem like I wasn’t allowed to show emotions because years had passed. Like I shouldn’t feel things as strongly because ten years have gone by,” Baekhyun frowns, creases developing by the sides of his eyes and turning his expression dark—but then he turns to Chanyeol. Turns and grips his hand even tighter, emotion colouring his expression. “So Loey, feel what you’re feeling. Acknowledge it. Acknowledge your grief. Don’t let people tell you, you should be feeling a certain way.”

The words hit Chanyeol—in the right way or wrong way, not even he is sure. They just hit, like a bat or a club, throwing him off and highlighting the undeniable churning of feelings in his stomach. He’s been feeling off the whole day, knowing how close, just how close, his parents’ death anniversary is. It’s why he’s wearing his mother’s bracelet, the one piece of jewellery Chanyeol was able to take from her vanity before it was given to Yoora.

It’s been hard, but Chanyeol’s been strong. He’s been especially strong.

And yet.

Baekhyun’s saying that maybe he doesn’t need to be strong, maybe he can just let it go. For once.

His breathing is the first the falter. Then, the tears.

He isn’t sobbing, isn’t sniffling all over the couch. Just a tear, and then another, falling down the plains of his cheeks. Despite what Baekhyun said, Chanyeol contains it, doesn’t feel that comfortable—or comfortable enough—to break down entirely in front of the other man. He bites the inner of his lip, forcibly constraining himself.

Throughout this, Baekhyun holds his hand. He rubs his finger along Chanyeol’s palm and keeps him company. What he doesn’t do though is say a word. Baekhyun stays silent, perhaps because he’s already said his piece. This is Chanyeol’s time.

“I just…” Chanyeol runs his teeth along his lower lip, digging his sharp incisors into the plush skin. “I just _wish_ I could’ve said goodbye.” He bites his lip harder, trying to stop the emotions from being too overwhelming. But he can’t.

“Oh, come here,” Baekhyun says when Chanyeol’s face crumples and the tears really start flowing. He pulls the dancer closer, wraps his hand around the back of the tall man’s neck and brings him into a tight embrace. Chanyeol’s nose gets squashed against a strong shoulder, but he doesn’t dare to say a word, not if it would stop the hand petting his hair or the fingers around his waist.

He’s held, shushed and petted, continuously. Over and over. Baekhyun wraps him up, whispers soft words into his ear. Little _it’s okay_ s, or _let it out_ s. On some level, Chanyeol knows he’s crying in public. They haven’t left to their designated private room, and despite Baekhyun sitting in the back of the club, they’re clearly identifiable if one just _looks_ for them. And yet Chanyeol doesn’t even care. All he cares about is the release he’s feeling from finally crying, from letting out all the stress he’s developed over the past few weeks.

Things changed when his parents died. Chanyeol lost contact with a lot of his university friends, he was forced to get a job, and he started working here at Chen’s. Yoora has her own family, her own people to take care of, so he’s been on his own for the most part. He doesn’t even remember the last time he sat and cried.

So, yes. It’s cathartic. It’s more than just simple catharsis and Chanyeol is truly grateful for Baekhyun.

“You must be wondering why I’m working here,” Chanyeol’s voice is gruff, even deeper and huskier from the build up of tears. He clears his throat, head still pressed against Baekhyun’s shoulder. A hand is wrapped around his waist, comforting. “In a crack house. Most of the boys are on something. Probably on something right now.”

“Loey…”

“And yet I _choose_ to work here. The one area in Seoul where you’re almost expected to see runny noses, bloodshot eyes and dilated pupils,” he laughs but it isn’t pretty. Snotty, wet and disgusting. A bit degrading too, perhaps. “Isn’t that funny.”

Baekhyun doesn’t say anything, probably doesn’t know _what_ to say. He holds the dancer close though, keeps his arm wrapped around like a band of comfort.

Eventually, when Chanyeol feels like he’s somewhat okay, he pulls away from Baekhyun. He sniffs, and quickly wipes at his eyes, frowning when he feels the tears on the back of his hands. For the most part, he’s calmed down. There’s still a little pain inside of him, a little anger at the man—whoever that man is—and a little anger at whatever substance that man abused. He really does think it’s funny that he's managed to sustain a job where he interacts with drugged up people on the daily.

Regardless, he isn’t here to mope. Isn’t getting paid to cry.

He sits up with a gasp, quickly dabbing at the corner of his eyes once more. Baekhyun is still staring at him with a somewhat worried expression on his face. It’s this that causes the dancer to start apologising. Bowing again and again, waves of embarrassment flowing through him. Chanyeol can’t believe that he started crying at work, in front of a _customer_. And not just any customer, but Baekhyun—the one man he’s been specially entertaining for a while now.

This isn’t professional, this isn’t anything close to professional. What has he been doing?

“Loey.”

Even if he’s been feeling a little off recently knowing he needs to take a trip to Ulsan to visit his parents’ graves, this kind of behavior in the club? Unacceptable.

“Loey, honey.”

And towards Baekhyun too. Even if the man said it was okay, how okay is it really? Chanyeol doesn’t know if he’d want a man crying over him, tears and snot staining expensive European clothing. God, the cost of the dry cleaning bill would be expensive. Insane. He doesn’t have money to afford shit like that.

“Baby.” Fingers touch Chanyeol’s palm and the dancer jolts.

“I’m so sorry,” Chanyeol apologises again, head bowed. His fringe is covering his eyes, a makeshift barrier to keep the world out. To keep Baekhyun out. He feels so unprofessional, so embarrassed. God, his makeup is probably running down his face, eyes most likely dark and messy. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Don’t apologise,” Baekhyun grips his hand once again, and the tall man raises his head. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting to see, realises to some extent that the other has been unlawfully kind. On some level, he thinks Baekhyun is going to look angry. Why would he put up with Chanyeol’s crying? He comes here to have a good time and has to deal with a teary stripper.

Except, he doesn’t look angry. Worried, maybe—cautious? His facial features are carefully drawn into a frown, but he doesn’t look mad.

“It’s okay, Loey. Please don’t apologise.” He smiles then, something soft and Chanyeol’s heart patters in his chest.

“Okay…” the dancer nods once, taking in a deep breath. “I… let me dance for you. No charge. A thanks.”

Baekhyun looks tempted by the idea, and Chanyeol gets ready to tell Kyungsoo to keep their private room free, but then he shakes his head.

“I’m busy tonight, sweetie. I have to leave soon,” he sighs, frown on his face. Chanyeol feels himself start frowning as well. “I just stopped by to see you.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol’s voice is low and it cuts off short. He knows his eyebrows are furrowed, but for the life of him, he can’t seem to get rid of the expression. “What do you have?” Overstepping boundaries, he knows, but he can’t help himself. All he wants to do right now is dance for Baekhyun. To say thank you. He’ll need to touch up his makeup, but after that?

“Have a meeting… with a few clients,” Baekhyun looks apologetic.

“Late meeting,” Chanyeol notes, before he frowns again. He didn’t mean to sound so nosy. “Sorry,” he says, halfheartedly.

It is late though, already past nine. What kind of clients are these?

“Yeah,” Baekhyun just nods, giving no further indication that he wants to continue this conversation. And so, Chanyeol too nods, swallowing down excess saliva and standing up.

He doesn’t know why he feels so strange, so upset that Baekhyun’s leaving. He’s never felt like this before. Chanyeol is always present with a smile, a wide grin to match his overly large stature. He’s known for his happiness, something Jongdae calls a virus at times.

And yet now, he’s forcing that smile on, knowing that it probably looks fake as fuck. Baekhyun doesn’t say a word though, probably doesn’t even realise Chanyeol’s feeling a little off. What he does though is grab the dancer’s hand, squeezes it one last time, and leaves with a soft smile.

“It was lovely to see you, Loey. Take care.”

Chanyeol nods, mute. He doesn’t know what to say. Knows that if he opens his mouth, he’ll probably spill something he doesn’t want to admit.

Baekhyun exits with dark eyes and a smile that makes Chanyeol’s stomach turn. Chanyeol stomach turns even more when he realises that.

The rest of the night passes by quite uneventfully. He touches up his makeup, runs his brush down the side of his cheeks and uses remover to clean the smudged eyeliner. The uneasy feeling stays in Chanyeol’s stomach, lingers despite the abundance of alcohol he ingests. Kris gives him an extra shot or two with a concerned expression on his face. Says something about seeing him crying. Chanyeol just shrugs, unsure of what to say. Yeah.

Yeah.

It’s only later when Chanyeol’s finished up his set on stage and is booked for a lap dance that he kind of realises what he’s feeling. He… likes Baekhyun. Perhaps a little too much.

Currently, he’s curled up on another man, feeling his ass being grabbed and hearing lewd comments being whispered into his ear. He doesn’t want this man though, another faceless and nameless stranger. Instead, Chanyeol wants to please Baekhyun. He wants to sit in Baekhyun’s lap and rub his thick thighs on the man. Wants to feel his ass being grabbed by delicate but strong fingers. Chanyeol wants to run his fingers through beautiful bronze locks and watch as brown eyes turn dark and seductive.

There’s a certain strength to Baekhyun—underneath expensive suits and Cartier jewellery. It’s in the gaze that lingers upon Chanyeol, in the lips that curl into a smirk. He’s so careful, always keeps his grips chaste, palm in the dip of Chanyeol’s back. All the dancer wants is for Baekhyun to hold him tighter, to bring him close and maybe… maybe even kiss him.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He hears the man say. Chanyeol smiles, but he doesn’t feel as happy as he usually does. Words like this tend to make his heart pound, make his lips curl naturally. Today though, he’s distracted by a higher pitched voice.

“Mm, thank you,” Chanyeol says, sitting back in the man’s lap. The other is languidly staring at Chanyeol’s chest and abs, probably watching sweat drop.

He gets paid soon after, dollar bills stuffed into his underwear and a hand slapping his ass. Chanyeol grins playfully, but his attention is elsewhere.

Chanyeol has a crush.

It’s coming to surface now, he realises what it is. And he feels _bad_. He doesn’t want a crush, doesn’t want to think he has some kind of feelings for the man. Baekhyun’s a client, who has a whole life outside of the club that Chanyeol knows nothing about. He might even have a wife, a kid. Who knows why he keeps coming back for Chanyeol.

He knows it’s stupid, to even entertain the idea of keeping a crush, but Chanyeol can’t help himself. Baekhyun is soft, so wonderful. He calls Chanyeol sweet names, lavishes him with attention and affection. He holds him gently, listens to him, gives him gentle smiles and tender grips. He doesn’t know Baekhyun, doesn’t know anything about the man except for how he likes it when Chanyeol dances for him.

In the beginning, Chanyeol was shy. He was hesitant with his moves, a little embarrassed by his clumsy gait. But with constant praise, he grew and opened up. He’s less shy now, knows that Baekhyun finds him hot and sexy.

Then, today. He comforted Chanyeol, told him words that he hasn’t heard in a long time. Held him close when tears sprung out of nowhere and ran a calm hand down his back.

And so really, it’s no wonder why he has a crush. Something small but potent. If Baekhyun wanted to kiss him now, Chanyeol has a feeling he’d give in. Which is bad. Which is really, really bad. Jongdae hasn’t warned him of the consequences about falling for a customer, but Chanyeol’s smart enough to know that’s probably an understood rule. The rule being that you shouldn’t fall for a customer. It’s dumb, and it’s shallow too. Chanyeol doesn’t know anything about the guy.

But that’s why it’s a crush, isn’t it? Baekhyun just makes his heart flutter. A little.

And so, maybe it’s okay. He’ll keep it under wraps, make sure no one finds out.

It’s just a crush.

Nothing special.

*~*

Chanyeol’s working the convenience store. He’s been a bit lonely the whole day. Sehun doesn’t work on Thursdays, and so it’s just him, alone, waiting for someone to come in. There’s been a few customers, but no one’s bought anything yet, so Chanyeol lies on the counter, bored.

The door rings, the little bell highlighting the entrance of a newcomer and Chanyeol sits up. He doesn’t want to look like he’s slacking on the job, even if that’s exactly what he’s been doing. It’s not like there’s anything to really do when no one’s here though, he reasons with himself.

A man walks in, casually glancing at the items placed throughout. He’s not anyone Chanyeol’s seen before, hasn’t visited this convenience store in the time he’s been working here and so the tall man eyes him curiously.

He’s of medium height and build, probably in his late twenties or early thirties. He walks around the store, and Chanyeol unabashedly stares at him doing so. He doesn’t pick up anything before heading to the counter.

Standing up straight, Chanyeol smiles. “Hello, can I help you?”

“No hotteok today?” The man asks, lips curling into a grin.

“No, not today,” Chanyeol affirms, shaking his head. “Hotteok-man will be back tomorrow, if you’d like to drop by.”

The man hums, neither a _yes I will come back_ nor a _no I won’t come back_ , and stares at the wall behind Chanyeol.

“Just a pack of smokes, thanks. Dunhill Light.”

With a nod, Chanyeol grabs a packet and places it on the table. The man smiles again, but it’s different this time. Not as unassuming as it was before.

“Thanks…” he stares at the shopkeeper’s nametag before dragging his gaze up and down, an outright leer. “Chanyeol,” he reads.

Chanyeol bites his lip in shock, blinking. The man’s grin has turned somewhat lecherous, similar to the looks he gets at the club. It’s shocking receiving something like this in public, where such affection would be heavily scrutinised and looked down upon. Chanyeol’s never experienced such unabashed behavior during the day, and it surprises him. 

“Have a nice… day,” he says when the man takes the packet and moves to leave.

“See you again soon,” the man speaks, eyes crinkling with the force of his smile. “Chanyeol.”

Gulping, Chanyeol runs his fingers through his hair once he’s sure the man has left. That was strange. He’s used to the attention, and it’s unfair to say that he hasn’t received glances like that before. Because he has. Almost every day he works at the club.

But he’s never received something like that in public, during the day time. He feels so unused to it as well since he hasn’t yet put on his Loey persona, the part of him that deals with this kind of behavior. At the convenience store, he’s merely Park Chanyeol, the man who looks after the counter and helps confused customers. He isn’t Chen’s _Loey_ , the boy on stage who dances sober—mostly at least, especially when compared to his workmates. He isn’t Chen’s Loey who seduces men with a pale peach gown.

He doesn’t feel offended, doesn’t feel like he wants to say something to the man—but it is mindboggling. Their culture dictates that it’s taboo to act upon feelings like this, especially in public, when the sun is high in the sky. These are night feelings, like they’re covered and hidden by the moon’s shadow. Not something Chanyeol would expect to see often.

Maybe it shouldn’t be as surprising as it is, but Chanyeol finds himself thinking about the encounter for the rest of the day. When he arrives to dance at the club for his early shift, the glances he receives his way are very much similar. He feels much more natural in the club though, able to smirk and send lascivious winks back at the customers. This is where he thrives, where he’s able to show off his charm.

Charm he’s currently using on his favourite customer.

“I brought your whiskey,” Chanyeol grins wide, eyes crinkling into crescents. Baekhyun smiles back at him and the sight is so beautiful the dancer’s heart skips a beat. “Hope you enjoy it.”

“I always do,” the man replies. He pats the seat next to him, and sends him another fond look. “Why don’t you get yourself a drink on me.”

“No, you shouldn’t, you don’t need to,” he asserts, shaking his head and staring at Baekhyun from under his eyelashes. He knows he looks coy, slightly coquettish, but it works in his favour when Baekhyun just grins a little wider and insists.

“Go on, get one.”

Chanyeol throws back a wink, standing tall and large. He watches as Baekhyun drags his gaze down his figure, dressed only in a pair of tight jeans and his pretty gown. It’s a gaze that reminds Chanyeol of the man from today, the one who asked for a pack of smokes. He finds that he’s still thinking about that encounter even when he’s returned back to Baekhyun, drink and all.

“Penny for your thoughts, beautiful?” Baekhyun leans back into the seat, arm resting on the top. He seems calm and normal, like it’s just an ordinary day at the club. And it is. It should be an ordinary day where Chanyeol serves Baekhyun and then dances for him if the other so pleases.

Except Chanyeol can’t stop thinking about a few things. A few things usually doesn’t mean much, and most of the stuff is mere clutter—he needs to buy train tickets to Ulsan, his nephew’s birthday is coming up—but then there’s other stuff too. Like the man from earlier today, as well as the fact that… Chanyeol has a crush on Baekhyun.

There’s nothing spectacular about that last fact. When the man had arrived, Chanyeol didn’t burst into flames or find himself stumbling at every turn. Sure, there was a small warmth that brewed in his chest when he was called _beautiful_ , and he can’t stop staring at Baekhyun’s gorgeous smile, but he’s been keeping himself in check. He doesn’t want to act particularly different, though he can’t help but feel like something has changed.

Baekhyun is unerringly soft towards him, precious and kind. Chanyeol has a feeling that it’s because he’s still wearing his mother’s bracelet. The man obviously hasn’t forgotten what happened last week, and the memory itself is enough to make the dancer turn red. The kindness however has thrown Chanyeol for a loop, and makes his stomach churn even more.

Obviously, he can’t tell Baekhyun this, nor does he want to say anything about a strange customer, so he speaks about topic number 3 on his mind.

“Need to go to Ulsan tomorrow. Long journey there and back,” he sighs. He’s done this trip a few times now. Their family is from Seoul, heck, Chanyeol was born and raised in Seoul. But his mother’s side is from Ulsan and they were the ones who wanted to scatter their daughter’s ashes along the coastal sea.

“Ulsan?”

“My parents’ graves are there,” he explains. They’re not really graves, just memorial stones put in place. Chanyeol visits the area every year regardless.

“Flying?” Baekhyun asks.

“Train,” he corrects, and then with a sigh, “train in the morning, train back because I have work in the evening.”

His workload has been rather hectic this week. Even today, he was at the convenience store until three and only had a few hours to spare before this shift. He’s going to have to leave really early tomorrow to catch the train.

“Train?” Baekhyun frowns, the word sounding foreign on his tongue. It probably is, Chanyeol thinks a little amusedly. He hardly doubts Baekhyun has taken the train in years, not when the clothes he wears could probably buy one hundred tickets to Ulsan. “The KTX station is still really far out from central Ulsan.”

He shrugs. Done it before. He’ll do it again.

“I’m meant to meet up with some clients in Ulsan next week actually, I can push the meeting forward and we can fly there together if you’d like,” he speaks, casual, like it’s no big deal.

“What?” Chanyeol breathes, eyelids fluttering. “You’d… you’d do that?”

Baekhyun shrugs, mysterious smile on his face. “I need to go to Ulsan anyway and it makes me sad to think that you’re going to have to travel so much tomorrow otherwise. It’ll be so tiring.”

“No, no, no,” he shakes his head, several times over. “I can’t possibly accept—no, no.” The idea is tempting, but there’s no way in hell that he’d accept Baekhyun’s offer. He doesn’t know the man at all, and he’d feel entirely too indebted towards the other. Then again, he doesn’t really know what Baekhyun means. Is he offering to buy his ticket or…?

Regardless, he isn’t accepting.

“It’s fine Loey, it’s honestly fine,” the man says, reaching into his pants and taking out his mobile phone. “Let me just message my client righ—”

“No!” Chanyeol shakes his head, placing his large palms over Baekhyun’s thigh. “No, it’s fine. Thank you though, but I’m really fine.”

Baekhyun stares at him for a moment, almost as if gauging that this is truly what Chanyeol wants, before he puts his phone back in his pants. He nods, accepting the tall man’s wishes. “Okay, fine, but tell me if you change your mind.”

With a nod, Chanyeol smiles. The warmth in his chest grows when he looks at Baekhyun and continues to serve him. How nice, how impossibly nice.

“I have to get ready for my stage,” Chanyeol speaks, soft, slightly fond. He smiles at the other, but he knows he’s being shy, dipping his head downwards. “Will you be here afterwards?”

“I’ll be here,” Baekhyun promises, leaning over to squeeze the dancer’s hand. His fingers are soft and slightly cold, but they send a burning heat straight through Chanyeol. “I can’t stay for a lap dance but I’ll be here after you’re done.”

“Okay,” Chanyeol smiles again, biting the corner of his lip. “I’ll see you then?”

“Sure thing, beautiful.”

Chanyeol feels like he’s on cloud 9 when he moves backstage. There’s an airy lightness to his steps, a flutter to his heart. He knows he’s grinning like crazy, but he just can’t stop. Not when all he’s thinking about is Baekhyun.

“Someone looks happy,” one of the boys whistles when Chanyeol stays stock still by his dressing table. Probably grinning a lot.

“That’s ‘cause I am,” he replies, sunshine smile plastered on his face.

“Well then,” the other lets out a laugh. Chanyeol’s about to turn away and start with his makeup when the boy walks back up to him. “Hey… you’re good friends with Sehun, right?”

Sitting down in his chair, Chanyeol looks up. He knows this boy, they’re not the closest but they’ve occasionally worked a few shifts together. They haven’t really spoken before though.

“Yeah,” he nods, cocking his head to the side. “Why?”

The boy shuffles, taking something out of his back pocket. It’s only when the light hits the object does Chanyeol realise what it is. A wad of cash. “Would you be able to give this to him?”

“Oh…” Chanyeol breathes, heart pounding in his chest. That’s quite a bit of money. The smile starts to drop from his face. “What is this for?”

A grin crosses the boy’s face then and he shakes his head. “The purest E I’ve ever fucking taken man. Sehun has the real shit, god. So, so good. I was flying like a kite.”

“E, huh?” Chanyeol takes the money and puts it in his drawer, heart pumping loud in his chest. E, M, whatever the fuck people want to call it.

“He said he has some other stuff too,” the boy continues, not seeming to notice Chanyeol’s dulling mood. “Psychs, stimulants, you name it. Clean shit too, I believe him now. Tell him thanks and to get in touch with me,” he slaps Chanyeol’s back and sends him a grin. “See ya, Chanyeol.”

He doesn’t remember saying bye, but he probably does. He was raised a polite kid after all. There’s a sudden drop to his mood, the previous elation he was experiencing so strongly, now gone. Instead, all he feels is nothingness. Emptiness. Like his stomach’s been replaced with a vat of air, a complete void.

Psychedelics and stimulants, huh? Chanyeol’s stomach drops further when he thinks back to how elated that boy was. Just how good was that ecstasy? So good that he didn’t mind talking to Chanyeol about it? It’s common knowledge among their staff that he doesn’t touch drugs, almost everyone knows it. And yet the boy talked anyway, too eager to get in touch with Sehun and hook his ass up for more.

Man, how didn’t Chanyeol know that Sehun was dealing? When did he start? Recently, since he started working here at the club or has this been going on for longer?

It’s not his business, he keeps trying to remind himself as he hastily drags a makeup brush down his skin. This isn’t his business at all. It’s Sehun’s business and he can do whatever the fuck he likes.

But deep down, his stomach feels uneasy. Over a year. It’s been over a year since he became friends with Sehun and he likes to think that they’re close. But the other had never mentioned in the slightest that he was even interested in drugs, interested in dealing any type of substance. Sehun cooks up hotteok, Sehun doesn’t cook up DXM from _cough suppressants_.

It shouldn’t change his perception of Sehun, but it does. Chanyeol knows not to stereotype, has so many friends here that take these substances, but... Sehun.

He thinks about his parents, about what drugs did to them.

“Ugh!” He throws his beauty blender into the mirror, watching the sponge bounce off the shiny surface. Breathing deep through his nose, he counts slowly in his head. Three—beauty blender, mirror, eyeliner. Two—music, Kyungsoo on the phone, toilet flushing. One—one… things he can feel… he grips the money in his hand ( _Sehun’s_ money) and bites his lip. One—Sehun’s money, makeup, his gown.

He repeats this process, naming a few things he can see, hear and feel until he starts to calm down. God, he’s a mess over drugs and he’s not even a user.

He wishes he could talk to Sehun, just to gain some insight. Chanyeol doesn’t want to force him to stop, but just find out why the other didn’t tell him. Why he told that boy of all people and not his friend. Maybe ask him if what he’s doing is safe. How did Sehun get his hands on some pure substances? Most of the stuff circulating around Chen’s is terrible in quality, where is Sehun getting his shit from?

God, Chanyeol hopes he isn’t in trouble. It’s so risky living a life like this. Hard enough working in a male strip club like this, but if caught dealing? He doesn’t even want to think about the consequences.

When Chanyeol dances, he doesn’t smile, not even when he can feel Baekhyun watching from afar.

When Chanyeol finishes dancing, he immediately walks up to Baekhyun.

“Can I go with you tomorrow?”

“Of course, honey,” Baekhyun replies instantly, looking concerned. Chanyeol’s face is carefully constructed into an expression of aloofness. The tall man bites his lip before he falls back onto the couch. “Of course, let me send a message to my…”

“Thank you,” he breathes out with his eyes closed, some of weight in his chest disappearing. “Thank you, Baekhyun.”

Fingers thread themselves in his hair before they drag down to stroke at his cheek. He hums, enjoying the sensation perhaps a bit too much.

“Okay,” Baekhyun says, removing his hand and causing Chanyeol to open his eyes. The man’s phone is off, resting on the small glass table. “It’s done. We can go tomorrow.”

A smile curls Chanyeol’s lips upwards. “Thank you so much, Baekhyun.”

The man’s eyes crinkle. “Anytime, Loey.”

“Chanyeol.”

“Hm?” Baekhyun blinks, moving his head to stare at the dancer.

“Chanyeol,” he reiterates, dropping his head in embarrassment. “Park Chanyeol.”

*~*

Chanyeol doesn’t know what to expect when he wakes the following day. Baekhyun didn’t stay for much longer last night, having to leave quite early. What he did in the time he was there however, was give Chanyeol his number, telling him to be ready by early morning.

It’s early morning now, and Chanyeol _is_ ready. Eyes still puffy from sleep and hair a mess—but ready. He’s ready. Ready and waiting.

God, when he stops and thinks about what’s going to happen soon, he can’t help but shake his head in disbelief. Firstly, he has Baekhyun’s _number_. A client’s number. Chanyeol doesn’t even need Jongdae muttering his ear off to know that he shouldn’t be keeping clients’ phone numbers. And yet, that is exactly what he has… a phone number, saved neatly under the name _Baekhyun_.

If that wasn’t bad enough, Chanyeol is going on a trip with this Baekhyun. Not down to Gangnam-gu or anywhere in Seoul even, but to Ulsan.

Yeah, no, he can’t believe it either.

He doesn’t pack anything despite the fact that they’re apparently getting on an aeroplane. All he has ready on hand with him is a backpack with a spare change of clothes just in case something happens. It shouldn’t though, and Baekhyun promised him they’d be able to arrive before Chanyeol’s night shift started. He sighs at the thought of working again tonight with hardly enough sleep.

Whatever. Currently, he should be focusing on the fact that he’s going with Baekhyun. That’s… that’s strange, isn’t it? As much as he accepts that he has a crush on the older man, he doesn’t really _know_ anything about him. And yet, Baekhyun invited him anyway. Baekhyun _rearranged his schedule_ just so he could go with Chanyeol. That shows some level of interest, right? Well, obviously he knew the man was interested in him, considering how much money he threw on a nearly weekly basis, but this? Changing schedules and going across country?

That’s different.

Chanyeol feels like bouncing on his feet in excitement but he stops himself from doing so, can’t help but wonder why Baekhyun decided to do  this. They’re close but not that close. Is this Baekhyun signalling that he wants to get… closer? That he wants more out of their relationship than what they currently have? The thought sends shivers down the tall man’s spine, and he can’t help the small smile that curls his lips upwards.

Obviously he wants to get to know Baekhyun. He wants to know much more about him than he currently does. There’s something about the man’s pretty thin lipped smile that makes his stomach churn. Something about his soothing voice that makes Chanyeol’s skin tingle. There’s something about the names that he calls the dancer that makes him... jittery.

He knows he shouldn’t be so excited over a customer, but he can’t help himself. What does Baekhyun do? What does he do for fun? Does he have any hobbies? Can he cook? Has he travelled the world? All these questions Chanyeol can’t help but think up in his spare time and wants to know the answers to. Maybe, if things go well, he’ll be able to ask them on their flight.

It’s then, when he’s finished his meal, sitting by the entrance to his kitchen, that his phone buzzes.

 _Good morning Chanyeol, hope you slept_  
_well. I have our flight all ready for 9 am._  
_I can come pick you up, just send me_  
_your address._  
_Baekhyun_

Such a simple message shouldn’t make him smile so wide, but it does. It makes him knock his knees together and grin like he’s been presented with a gift. On some level he knows it’s silly and childish, but he has a _crush_ , okay? He’s just simply enjoying all the benefits of what having a newfound crush entails—which mostly consists along the lines of being excited whenever he’s in contact with said crush.

He bites his lip, reading the message over again. Baekhyun offered to pick him up from his house but he’ll ask to be picked up from the local bus stop. As much as he does like the man, there’s still a possibility that he’s a creep in sheep’s clothing. The fact that he comes to a shady strip club for service most weeks probably indicates something, and while Chanyeol doesn’t like to stereotype, he’s always thought of himself as very ‘street smart’. Besides, it’s just safer. Chanyeol likes safe.

So, he messages the man back, typing in the address of his nearest bus stop all while he gets ready to make the journey there. It doesn’t take long to walk to the stop. The day is nice—sun warm on his skin. The breeze is cool, and Chanyeol hums, smiling at a few fellow pedestrians and animals alike. He feels so happy and jovial, like he’s been injected with joy, and not even the brief thought of Sehun has yet to be a dampener on his feelings.

Has… yet to be a dampener. Ah, it’s starting to be a dampener.

With a sigh, he sits on the bus stop bench, running his fingers over his face. Baekhyun said he’ll be there soon, but Chanyeol still has a few minutes before the man is set to come. Because of this extra time, Chanyeol has more time to think about Sehun.

He hasn’t messaged his friend about the money—not yet. It has stayed untouched, wrapped in a rubber band and stuck in his work bag. He knows it’s all a mental thing but for some reason, the money feels wrong. _Dirty_. It shouldn’t. It’s just money after all, and he knows there’s far worse ways to obtain money than by dealing drugs, but… it does. It feels so dirty when all he can think about is why he’s going to Ulsan today, why his parents are so many miles away from him when their family home is in Seoul.

Right now, Chanyeol’s parents should be alive. They should be spending their days looking after Yoora’s children complete with smiles on their faces knowing that they have so many years left to come.

But they aren’t.

They’re gone—ash and dust floating, or perhaps dissolved, in the deep blue sea. They’re not looking after Yoora’s kids, they’re not helping Chanyeol make important life decisions. No, they aren’t because of a stupid fucking man who took drugs and decided it was a good idea to drive despite doing so.

He runs a hand through his hair and he turns his face down towards the bitumen. It’s not Sehun’s fault, it has nothing to do with Sehun, he _knows_. Chanyeol knows this. Sehun is living his whole life, completely unrelated to this man who decided to do something stupid. That man was just a simple one out of many, one out of _thousands_ of people who use these substances on a daily basis.

Chanyeol shouldn’t be so hurt.

And yet he is. He can’t help but think about his friend, now so interconnected in the drug world. Of course, he doesn’t really know how deep Sehun is, but he can’t help but remember what that dancer was saying yesterday. Sehun has good quality shit. Good quality shit doesn’t usually float around dodgy strip clubs unless there’s some connection.

He can’t help but wonder who Sehun talked to. Which boy introduced him to this? It makes Chanyeol grind his teeth because this is exactly what he didn’t want, for Sehun to get involved. Not only because he dislikes what drugs can do, but because of what it means to get caught red handed. God, his friend would be done for.

So, so goddamn risky.

He’s running his fingers through his hair, over and over endlessly, when Baekhyun arrives. He doesn’t realise it’s Baekhyun until the man steps out of the swanky car, dressed to the nines. It’s the usual stuff he wears, expensive dress shirt and dark slacks. There’s a pair of sunglasses on his face though, and he looks so richly handsome, Chanyeol feels like he’s going to swoon to death.

That is, until he properly sees the car the man just exited.

Chanyeol likes his cars as much as any casual car enthusiast. He knows the more popular brands, and some models, but he doesn’t know what this is. All he can conclude is that it’s a Porsche, and that’s already fancy enough for him.

“Mornin’,” Baekhyun smiles at him. He’s leaning against the hood of the vehicle, so picturesquely movie-like, Chanyeol can’t help but stare in awe.

“Good morning,” he replies, standing tall. It takes him a few moments to recognise how differently they’re dressed. Baekhyun is as impeccably styled as he usually is while Chanyeol is simply in a t-shirt and jeans. “Nice car.”

“Thanks,” the man responds, gesturing towards the vehicle to get in.

Grabbing his small bag, Chanyeol gingerly walks towards the passenger seat and opens the door. The smell of leather is strong and feels especially soft under his palms. Baekhyun looks like he belongs in this car, and Chanyeol can’t help but shoot interested glances in his direction. There’s something incredibly attractive about the elder man, arms on the steering wheel and stretched mid-flex. The material of his shirt frames his figure perfectly, his biceps and forearms looking especially strong.

“Thank you for this, once again, you know,” he speaks when the car starts to rumble smoothly. A small, shy smile lays by the side of his lips. “You really didn’t have to.”

Baekhyun cocks his head, the morning sun reflecting off the bronze of his hair and turning it a brighter shade. “No worries at all, Chanyeol.”

A strange sizzle runs through the tall man at the sound of his name, and he eagerly knocks his knees together. This is the second time Baekhyun has called him by his real name and it’s debilitating. He’s almost used to hearing Loey flow sensually from the man’s lips—so it’s a shock, a real pleasant surprise listening to Baekhyun’s voice speak his actual name. The cadence of his words, and the lilt in his speaking voice, causes him to emphasise the _Chan_ while the _yeol_ follows after. It’s nice to listen to, and Chanyeol can’t wait to hear it repeated some more.

The radio is playing through the speakers but it’s turned down soft, so soft that Chanyeol can hear Baekhyun’s fingers pattering against the side of the wheel. There’s tension lining between them, something strange and unusual. Never is it normally so quiet. He’s become so used to simple questions and sweet words that this silence between them is almost uncomfortable. Tapping his knees together, Chanyeol racks his brain, trying to think of anything he could say.

“Were you able to get tickets okay?” He eventually speaks, voice loud. He’s a loud person by normal standards but it feels especially loud in the silent car, deep voice practically booming with vibrato.

“Hmm?” Baekhyun hums, flickering his eyes towards him. He seems confused, almost as if he was lost deep in thought.

“Tickets,” he reiterates, smiling awkwardly. “For the plane?”

“Oh,” the man says, tapping the wheel. He shakes his head then. “We’re not going via commercial airline.”

“What?” Chanyeol speaks, confused. What does that even mean?

“Private charter,” Baekhyun smiles wide, sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.

“Private… charter…” he copies out loud, repeating it again and again in his head as he tries to make sense of the words. “Like a private jet?”

“Yep,” the older man nods.

“Oh,” Chanyeol turns away and sits back in his chair, voice oddly muted. He blinks once, and then a second time, disbelieving. It takes him a few seconds before the words finally get through to him. A _private jet?_ What.

What.

Chanyeol shoots Baekhyun several more looks, not really understanding. Understanding what? Anything, everything. He doesn’t understand a single thing. What does Baekhyun do? Why does he have a private jet? Why is Baekhyun taking Chanyeol, an exotic dancer, in his private jet? It makes no sense.

Currently, Chanyeol is sitting in Baekhyun’s Porsche, watching the hustle and bustle of Seoul fly past him through tinted glass. Soon, he’ll be sitting in a private jet, flying down to Ulsan. It’s… almost unbelievable. No, it _is_ unbelievable.

He’s lost in his thoughts, stuck on the who’s and the why’s when Baekhyun starts to speak.

“It was only when I arrived back home last night that I realised I probably overstepped my boundaries once again,” the man speaks, voice controlled. He’s always filled with confidence, so sure with what he says. Chanyeol finds it awe-inspiring. “I hope it didn’t feel like I was forcing you, Chanyeol,” he shoots a look, the corners of his lips turning downwards into a frown. “You probably keep your normal life and your… dancer life separate, and for good reason too. I didn’t mean to suddenly separate that.”

Chanyeol stays silent. Honestly, he didn’t even think about this at all, though maybe he should’ve. All night, he was thinking about his crush, about the fact that he can’t wait to learn more about Baekhyun. This is probably what he should’ve been really thinking about. Maybe, if he had other customers asking him the same question, he’d feel more pressure than want, but with Baekhyun? With Baekhyun, the man he can’t help but have a crush on? It’s not anything like that.

“You didn’t force me,” he replies, shaking his head. “I asked you, remember?”

Baekhyun makes an affirmative noise. “Yeah, were you—are you okay?”

He’s obviously talking about Chanyeol’s break-down last night. The fact that he went from an adamant no, to a yes.

“I… well,” he shrugs, staring out the window. “I just found out about something… unpleasant,” he sighs, tinkering with the bracelet on his wrist. “I didn’t want to go to Ulsan alone.” 

“Do you have any siblings? Would you normally go with them?”

“Yeah, I do,” he nods, thoughts trailing to Yoora and her son. “We do normally travel together, but she’s currently out of the country.”

“Ah,” Baekhyun hums, eyes on the road. He doesn’t say anything more, keeping quiet, almost as if he’s waiting for Chanyeol to make conversation. The younger man doesn’t though, he stays as equally silent, watching the road fly under the wheels of their car.

It doesn’t take too long to get to the air-strip, and hastily, Chanyeol exits the car. The ride was mostly silent save for the soft mumbling of the radio. He just… didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what was appropriate to say. When he’s dancing, he can’t help but talk—ask questions about Baekhyun’s day, ask if he’s doing well—but here, with the sun so bright and high in the sky, he’s wordless.

Baekhyun’s different too. He isn’t as soft as Chanyeol knows him to be, isn’t as affectionate. There isn’t that same twinkle to his eyes that the tall man is used to. It’s almost as if he too realises there’s a difference, like Chanyeol out of the club is different to Loey on-stage.

He’s not wrong, there is a difference. Loey is suave and confident. Chanyeol is, well, Chanyeol is Chanyeol—whatever that means. Loey is the persona that he puts on, just like he does with his peach coloured gown, something that he can easily take off if he wants to. Chanyeol however, is everything else that he encompasses, the part of him that is able to show weakness. Sometimes when he finds himself nervous on stage, he realises that it’s parts of Chanyeol coming to surface.

He doesn’t know enough about Baekhyun to wonder if he’s similar, but it’s obvious that there’s differences. Day-time Baekhyun is as equally kind, but perhaps less forward. That might be because this is neither the time nor place to be forward. He doesn’t have to pay for Chanyeol here, no, they are simply… acquaintances here. Hopefully acquaintances well on their way to becoming friends. Chanyeol wants to know more about the man.

Baekhyun guides him along the air-strip. Chanyeol doesn’t know much about planes, has never really travelled on one before. The jetliner he’s being ushered into however is much unlike the one Boeing 747 he remembers flying on years ago. The inside is small and compact, the chairs a nice smooth leather. There’s cream everywhere, cream coloured walls, cream coloured seats, cream coloured seat _belts_. It’s fancy, especially fancy, and Chanyeol hastily makes sure he smiles at all air hostesses available.

“Take a seat,” Baekhyun says with a smile, dropping his hand-luggage down. He didn’t bring any extra luggage besides the one black work-bag he’s carrying. He does look thoroughly professional, dressed up in pressed work clothing, but the sunglasses he’s wearing turns that look stylish. A movie star. He looks like a god damn movie star.

Chanyeol plops down on a seat, feeling the material bounce. He’s sitting opposite Baekhyun, able to watch his every move. There isn’t anyone else with them, the air hostesses suddenly turning into pilots. Maybe they weren’t air hostesses in the first place.

“This is really nice,” he says, slightly in awe. There’s champagne, because why wouldn’t there be. A flute fizzles right in front of him. He’s never had champagne at 9am, but who is he to refuse now? “Wow.”

Baekhyun’s smile seems to widen when Chanyeol gulps down the drink. “We’re just waiting for… some companions of mine, and then we’ll be off.”

With a nod, Chanyeol bunches his knees together and looks around the aircraft in astonishment. He better enjoy this now, he’ll probably never have the chance to experience this ever again.

“Do you travel a lot?” He asks, taking note that Baekhyun doesn’t even touch the champagne offered to him. Well, it is 9am after all.

“Occasionally,” Baekhyun hums, comfortable. “Whenever work forces me to. What about you?”

“Never,” he shakes his head. “Well, never by aeroplane anyway. I’ve been to Japan once though, when I was a child.”

“Japan’s nice,” the man nods, “the cherry blossoms are so lovely to see.”

Chanyeol smiles, rubbing at the skin under his palm. Baekhyun is nice, and especially nice to look at, but the atmosphere feels awkward. It reminds Chanyeol of when he used to attend functions with his parents as a child, forced to talk to adults much older than him. Here, it’s different though. Baekhyun doesn’t seem to be _that_ much older than him, less than a decade at best, but there’s some stiltedness.

The silence lingers on for a moment, similar to the air that Chanyeol observed in the car. It makes him rub at his wrists, fingers jittery, until he finally says something. “Do you have any hobbies, Baekhyun… um… Baekhyun-ssi?” He throws the honorific on, unsure. At the club, he calls Baekhyun simply by his name, but it’s different here.

“Call me hyung,” Baekhyun laughs, eyes crinkling. He looks amused. “I’m probably not that much older than you, not as much as you’d think.”

“I’m 25,” he responds succinctly, now curious. How old is this rich millionaire (billionaire?) anyway.

“See,” Baekhyun’s grin grows, and Chanyeol’s heart thumps at the sight of perfect toothpaste advertisement teeth. “I’m only 30.”

“Oh!” He says, blinking. “Oh…” he says again, compartmentalising his thoughts. He already knew that Baekhyun couldn’t have been that much older than him. There’s a certain youthfulness to his features that not even impressive suits could age, but the affirmation is still shocking.

“As for hobbies,” Baekhyun hums again, rubbing at the skin under his chin as he ponders Chanyeol’s initial question. “I used to play a lot of video games?”

“Really?” Chanyeol barks out a laugh, surprised. He didn’t expect that from CEO (is he a CEO?) Baekhyun. Actually, that’s probably one of the things he wouldn’t have guessed in the slightest. Video games? “Like what?”

“This was a long time ago,” Baekhyun’s voice is loud and sunny, his smile as equally bright. It’s interesting watching the man like this, so different to his usual serious but calm image. Playful, Chanyeol realises. He’s being very playful. “Like a long time ago, but I was really into those MMORPGs.”

“No way.”

“Yep, I was one of _them_.”

“Long time ago… so Maplestory? Ragnarok Online?”

“Yep. Maplestory, Ragnarok, Lineage—I was a big NCSoft fan. Lineage, Guild Wars, even tried Aion before it became free to play, I heard?” Baekhyun laughs, his cheeks slightly pink. He looks embarrassed, like Chanyeol’s exposing his dark past.

“I don’t know. I never really played many MMOs,” Chanyeol shrugs. He delved a little into video gaming back when he was still studying, but most of his free time was spent trying to compose.

“Oh yeah? What are your hobbies then?”

“Music,” he replies instantly, even if hobbies implies being that of ‘now’ and not ‘three years ago’. “I went to school for music.”

“Wow, music? You compose?” Baekhyun sounds impressed, or at least intrigued, and Chanyeol shrugs, slightly embarrassed.

“Yeah, play a few instruments too.”

“A few, as in more than just one?”

“Yeah? Um. Guitar, piano… drums,” Chanyeol rubs at the side of his arms when Baekhyun’s impressed expression only grows. Shyness runs through him and he throws his gaze towards the floor.

“Do you sing too? You’re a whole band in one man. You could make one of those Youtube videos where you superimpose yourself playing all the instruments so it looks like you’re—don’t tell me you’ve already done that.”

“Well,” Chanyeol’s grin is wide, and he laughs when Baekhyun’s mouth drops open, a lock of bronze hair curled into his left eye. “I kind of have? Maybe? I don’t know, the superimposing isn’t the best—it doesn’t look like I’m in the same room or anything.”

Baekhyun just shakes his head, but he still looks impressed. Chanyeol then finds out that Baekhyun learned how to play the piano when he was younger, still occasionally sings too. It makes him wonder what the man would sound like singing, how his voice would change. Maybe he’d sound clear and smooth like those ballad singers he sometimes catches on music shows, maybe his singing voice is a little huskier—more typically rock sounding.

They start talking about music, more about the type of training they both went through as children, and Chanyeol starts to loosen up. This is something he’s a lot more comfortable talking about, even with strangers. He knows music, has always enjoyed talking about his passion. Baekhyun is someone who’s going through training too, has learnt how music works and so the chat is more comprehensive than something Chanyeol would have with the average person.

In the interim, a few others enter the aircraft. Baekhyun shares a brief look with them but he isn’t phased in the least. He continues to speak, loud, commanding attention—commanding _Chanyeol’s_ attention.

The aeroplane takes off and Chanyeol watches as they fly high in the sky, above the milky sugar clouds. He takes a sip of his champagne and sits comfortably in his chair. It isn’t as strange between them anymore, the air mellowing out. Now that Chanyeol knows a few things about Baekhyun, things feel more real, more tangible. It’s not just businessman Baekhyun anymore, but Baekhyun the pianist, Baekhyun the singer. Baekhyun the MMORPG fan.

Surprisingly, Baekhyun is chatty. He comments about simple things, small-talk about the weather and one of the latest idol songs to have come out. But as soon as he says something, despite any sort of atypical remark, Chanyeol finds himself responding instantly. Like he was subconsciously waiting for the other to say something.

He wants to know more about the elusive man, and now that they’ve managed to break the ice, he finds himself asking a few more questions.

“So what do you do?”

Technically, it’s a simple question. Of course, at the club he’d never even dare to overstep his boundaries. The lives of his customers are completely off-limits. A significant percentage of their clientele tend to delve into shady business too—drugs and other illegal activities. It’s risky to ask what a person does, not general etiquette.

Except, outside of the club setting, a simple ‘what do you do’ is just that—simple. It’s a normal question, and Chanyeol is curious. Baekhyun has mentioned something about a family business, but that’s all.

Baekhyun takes a sip of his champagne—the first sip Chanyeol’s observed all morning—before he opens his mouth. “I overlook an exporting business. That’s why I need to go to Ulsan, have a meeting with some potential clients.”

Chanyeol nods. Sounds important. It makes sense though, why Baekhyun would be overflowing with cash.

“What about yourself? Do you only dance or?”

“Ah, well, I’m looking for something in the music industry,” he rubs the back of his neck, “but I currently work at a convenience store as well.” He forces himself to not cower away. It’s just, Baekhyun has such an important job—so luxurious and high-ranked—that he does, inevitably, feel embarrassed.

There’s a whole difference in class here. A CEO and a stripper. Man, doesn’t that sound like a story in one.

“I work there with Sehun,” he says quickly, to hide the fact that he _is_ embarrassed.

“Sehun.” Baekhyun blinks.

“Yeah—oh fuck, I mean. Reo. I work there with Reo,” he drops his head into his palms. He’s such an idiot, revealing Sehun’s real name out loud. “God I’m such an idiot.”

“No, you’re not, don’t say that.” Chanyeol can practically hear the other shaking his head, trying to convince him otherwise. Impossible though, he really is an idiot. “Please, you’re not… but a convenience store, huh? The one with food too, yeah?”

Chanyeol shoots his head up. “You know about my convenience store?”

Baekhyun looks shocked, like he didn’t really mean to divulge that. He pulls his lips wide into a shaky smile. “I, uh… well… Sehun’s told me?”

Oh.

Chanyeol pauses. That’s… weird. Baekhyun quickly changes the topic but Chanyeol can’t help but notice the man’s slip up. It’s obvious that he spoke mindlessly to make Chanyeol not feel bad about revealing Sehun’s real name, but, he _knows_ about their convenience store. Sehun’s told him about it.

Just how close are they? Chanyeol hasn’t observed Baekhyun asking for the other ever since that one day, but who’s to say he hadn’t been asking for Sehun on Chanyeol’s days off.

Which makes sense, if he thinks about it. Asks for Chanyeol on days when Chanyeol is working to keep him happy, then asks for Sehun on the other days.

As much as it makes sense, it also makes Chanyeol’s stomach churn. Jealousy. He knows it’s jealousy. Stupid dumb jealousy flowing through his veins, numbing everything else he can feel.

It helps put things into perspective—helps him realise that Baekhyun is simply a customer. But is he though? Currently, Chanyeol is sitting in an expensive jetliner, about to touch down in Ulsan. That isn’t normal. He thinks it should be safe to say that what he has with Baekhyun isn’t normal. He just wants to know if Sehun gets that attention as well.

They land soon after. He tries to remain jovial despite the negativity in his thoughts. Baekhyun has moved passed the issue like Sehun entertaining him isn’t of much importance. And maybe it isn’t.

Maybe it isn’t of much importance, and maybe Chanyeol’s the same.

Before they exit the aircraft, Baekhyun places a warm hand on his knee and sends him a smile. The sight causes Chanyeol to swallow down a gulp of saliva. A nice smile, a fond smile—but Baekhyun’s been sending him those looks ever since the very beginning, before he knew even the slightest about Chanyeol. How can he think those looks mean anything?

The air in Ulsan is different to Seoul. There’s less smog, more breezy air. It’s refreshing, and Chanyeol inhales a large breath, stretching his arms out around him. The two men he observed entering the aircraft earlier are standing with Baekhyun, chatting lowly under their breath. If Chanyeol didn’t know better, he’d think they were bodyguards. He pauses. Maybe they _are_ bodyguards. They’re dressed in suits, dark glasses covering their eyes—the typical bodyguard get-up.

Eventually, when Baekhyun’s finished talking, he walks up to Chanyeol, the two bodyguards following. His hair is blown off his forehead by the wind, the breeze causing the locks to fly. With the sunglasses on, Chanyeol can’t help but note, once again, just how model-like he looks.

“I have business to attend to right now, so I can’t join you.”

Chanyeol nods. He didn’t expect that Baekhyun would join him. Isn’t sure if he _wants_ Baekhyun to join him.

“However,” Baekhyun begins, turning his head to face one of his bodyguards. “This here is Suho. He will accompany you today.”

Blinking, Chanyeol opens his mouth. He wasn’t expecting a bodyguard, wasn’t expecting to get _Suho_. Suho is short, perhaps even shorter than Baekhyun, but he looks nicely muscled under the clothes he’s wearing. His face remains blank, looking purposefully serious, and Chanyeol gulps once again.

“Is he, uh, my bodyguard?”

Baekhyun’s lips quirk into a smile. “If he needs to be, I was just thinking of him as your chauffeur.”

Oh.

Makes sense. He guesses. Maybe.

Chanyeol waves Baekhyun off when he leaves with the other bodyguard/chauffeur before he turns and faces Suho.

“Um, hey.”

“Hello,” Suho bows, and suddenly Chanyeol bows back, embarrassed. “Let’s get on our way?”

The ride is quiet save for the radio crooning softly in the background. Chanyeol finds himself playing with his hands, wondering what to say.

“Have you, um, worked for Baekhyun for long?”

Suho turns to look at him, sunglasses glinting. “Fifteen years.”

“That’s a long time,” he responds.

“Yep.”

Okay.

“That must’ve been before he took over, right?” He speaks, thinking about what the man had told him about his father passing away. Turning, he looks at the driver. The man stares back at him, almost as if examining Chanyeol, before he nods once.

Okay, not very talkative at all.  

The ride feels long when Chanyeol has no one to talk to. The one hour on the plane felt short when Baekhyun was there, absently chatting his mouth off. It felt comfortable too, the awkwardness distilled as soon as Baekhyun revealed just how normal he was. He became real, a 4D quality to his prior 2D image. Suddenly, it wasn’t just CEO Baekhyun, it was CEO Baekhyun who had interests—real interests.

However, it all seemed to come to a head when Chanyeol mentioned _Sehun_ , and, well, inwardly, he feels stupid. He knows he has a crush on Baekhyun, which in itself is _stupid_ —it’s just a crush, he doesn’t have to feel so unlawfully jealous over his friend. It’s just hard to reconcile the fact that Baekhyun likes other boys too, and yet he still drags Chanyeol on private jets…

No, he shouldn’t act like this. What this is, is one of life’s opportunities. He’s here in Ulsan with a personal chauffeur driving him around. Chanyeol needs to capitalise on this opportunity, needs to compartmentalise his thoughts and realise that nothing will ever come out of Baekhyun. Why would a CEO want anything to do with a _stripper_?

When they arrive at the graveyard, Suho respectfully stays behind. The air is cool, tinged with the ocean breeze. Chanyeol finds himself walking almost on auto-pilot towards the graves he knows well. He’s made this trip a few times now, mostly with Yoora, but he’s done it by himself too. He reaches the memorial stones and pauses.

There’s a bouquet of flowers by his mother’s stone, bright and fresh, looking especially new. Probably brought very recently. His father’s stone remains bleak, no splash of vibrant colour laying beside it. If he remembers correctly, he doesn’t think his mother’s parents liked his father very much. It’s why he doesn’t visit them often, why he doesn’t even contemplate going to see them today even if Chanyeol’s in Ulsan.

Kneeling, Chanyeol runs his fingers on top of the stones. No bodies are rotting underneath, the soil by his feet remaining untouched. Their ashes were scattered over a cliff, by the ocean. It’s still heart-wrenching standing by the memorial stones though, a physical manifestation of their personalities and hearts.

“I love you,” Chanyeol whispers, tapping the stones.

He stays by the graves for a while—sitting, thinking. He speaks too, and the words he reveals out loud are filled with pain and longing. It feels so wrong to be here without Yoora, to talk to his parents like this. He wishes he brought flowers, just so he could match the ones laying by his mother’s stone.

“I have a new customer at work,” he speaks, the pad of his thumb rubbing against a fallen flower petal. “He’s really rich. Really nice too. He flew me down to Ulsan. I really like him but I don’t know what he wants. Our relationship is… weird.”

He sighs, staring at the engraved words. _Mother, grandmother and wife. Safe in the arms of Jesus._

“He’s a bit of a dork too, like me I guess. And he plays piano. I want to hear him play.”

_Father, grandfather and husband. Life is not forever, love is._

Chanyeol sits there for a long time. It’s not especially hot despite the sun being high in the sky. The wind blows through the graveyard, keeping him cool. He doesn’t stop speaking, telling his parents about the new things that have happened recently. How big their grandson has gotten and how there’s another little one on the way.

He feels soft, an air of melancholy surrounding him. When he eventually leaves, because his stomach rumbling sounds like a truck and it only gets worse, he walks slow and steady. He expects to see Suho waiting by the car, or perhaps in the car because of the sun, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t see Suho or the car he was driving anywhere.

Whipping his head in the other direction, Chanyeol blinks. He sees a familiar looking car, but that isn’t Suho… that’s…

“Hey,” Baekhyun smiles at him, stepping out of the black tint vehicle. He’s slightly sweaty, bronze fringe sticking against his forehead. It’s unusual to see him dishevelled, so used to his normal immaculate presence. Why is he sweaty?

“Hi…” Chanyeol speaks, mouth open wide. “Where is Suho?”

“I told him he could be excused for the rest of the day, I wanted to pick you up.”

Chanyeol’s chest feels warm, and he smiles for the first time in hours.

“Oh,” he lowers his head, biting his bottom lip. Baekhyun gestures to get in the car, so he follows behind. This car is different to the one Chanyeol was in early this morning. Their chauffeur is in the front, but there’s a black screen tint hiding him away. Instead of sitting in the front, Baekhyun sits in the back with Chanyeol, only one middle seat separating them. It’s cosy with the screen hiding them from the driver, almost intimate.

“How are you?” Baekhyun asks when the car starts rumbling. “Everything went well?”

“Yes,” he nods, throwing a quick glance at the handsome man. “Thank you so much,” he knocks his knees together, placing his hands into his lap.

“No worries at all,” Baekhyun responds sunnily, and, extremely unexpectedly, grabs his hand. He reaches over and pulls one of Chanyeol’s palms away from his lap, linking their fingers together.

The tall man watches this, almost cluelessly, dragging his gaze from their combined hands towards Baekhyun’s face.

“I… uh…” he grips Baekhyun tighter, a thanks.

Baekhyun smiles back.

Their hands remain linked for the rest of the ride, even if they don’t really speak too much. Chanyeol can’t stop the pounding in his chest, his heart racing like a horse. It’s probably not a big deal—he’s done much, _much_ worse to the man—but it feels big. It feels significant holding his hand in public, holding his hand and not expecting to get paid for it.

“How did your meeting go?” He asks, trying to ignore the wandering thumb rubbing circles into his skin.

It should feel awkward holding hands, but it doesn’t. Maybe a little strange at first, but Chanyeol’s done worse before. He has shoved his ass in Baekhyun’s face, felt fingers grazing his dick, there’s little he can do that would be past the boundaries he’s already set.

“Hm,” Baekhyun makes a short sounding noise, and Chanyeol looks at him. There’s a look in his eyes, something different, past soft and sweet and more… cold? Annoyed? “Not too well, but, it doesn’t matter. It’s all done now.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol’s lips curl into an ‘o’ shape, unsure what ‘it’s all done now’ means. He doesn’t know what to say, not to Baekhyun who looks visibly ticked off. What he does however, is squeeze Baekhyun’s palm, noticing the distant lack of fingers rubbing his skin. He liked the contact, Chanyeol wants more of it.

“Doesn’t matter though, don’t worry. How was your visit?”

“Good,” Chanyeol nods, thinking back to the fresh set of flowers by his mother’s grave. He wishes he left a bouquet on his father’s grave. He can imagine his mother’s parents, can almost hear their Gyeongsang satoori loud and clear, bickering angrily as they see the set of fresh flowers left for his father. Serves them right.

“I’m glad it was good,” Baekhyun squeezes his palm again. “Let’s get some lunch and then head back to Seoul?”

They hold hands until they reach the restaurant but even then Baekhyun stays close. He looks slightly annoyed, and Chanyeol thinks it might be from the meeting he had earlier, so the tall man tries to change the mood. He doesn’t feel burdened though, the driver staying in the car and leaving them by themselves, so the jokes Chanyeol makes about the restaurant and food isn’t as embarrassing as it could’ve been.

Baekhyun’s mood lifts, and it’s nice. They don’t hold hands—definitely not in public—but there’s a softness to the man’s voice again, quite dissimilar to the steely tone Chanyeol remembers from before.

“Are you working tonight?”

“I am,” Chanyeol confirms with a nod, taking a sip of his stew. Maybe he should tell Baekhyun that Sehun’s working tonight too.

“I was going to visit but…” he waves his hand in the air and rolls his eyes, “due to a few complications, I can’t anymore.”

“That’s okay,” Chanyeol replies instantly, with a smile. He changes the tone of his voice, questioning. “I’ll see you next week?”

“Of course,” Baekhyun says, and he reaches over and holds the younger’s hand once again.

Chanyeol can’t help but grin.

Baekhyun doesn’t hold his hand during the car ride, nor does he do it on the plane. There’s something in his gaze though, something that makes Chanyeol feel like they _are_ holding hands. Butterflies run through his stomach whenever they lock eyes, and he can’t help the flutter of his heart when Baekhyun sends him soft smiles.

When they land, Baekhyun’s chauffeurs don’t follow. Instead, he takes Chanyeol alone and drives him back down the streets the tall man is used to. The sun is on the verge of setting, the pretty pink and orange hues a beautiful backdrop to their journey.

“Well this is it,” Baekhyun puts the car in P, turning to face Chanyeol. That same look from before is still in his eyes, and Chanyeol gulps down another set of butterflies. “Take care, okay?”

“Always,” Chanyeol responds with a grossly heavy nod. He grins in embarrassment and grips his fingers around the one bag he brought with him. “Thank you so much once again, hyung.”

Baekhyun raises his hand and Chanyeol’s heart thumps, unsteady. He then brings his fingers to run through the tall man’s hair, gently brushing dark locks from side to side. It’s exceedingly affectionate—so, so, _so_ fond and Chanyeol bites his lip.

The fingers trail down from Chanyeol’s hair, past his temple, and land by his cheek. A hand cups his cheek then, delicate.

Chanyeol’s eyelashes flutter, his voice turning deeper as he throws his gaze towards the elder man. “Hyung?”

Baekhyun’s gaze is molten hot, fingers just as scorching, and Chanyeol feels like he’s going to be swallowed whole. His cheek is on fire, his chest is on fire.

He’s unsure who moves first, whether it's Baekhyun who leans over the gear shift or whether it's himself, but suddenly they’re kissing.

Chanyeol moans almost on instinct as soon as their lips touch, the faintest brush of skin igniting a low groan from deep within. Baekhyun’s left hand comes to join his right instantly, reaching up to hold the younger’s face as they kiss. It’s soft and sweet, surprisingly virginal, and Chanyeol can’t help but smile when he thinks about Baekhyun treating him specially.

Chanyeol’s hands grip at the man’s shirt and he shudders when he feels a wet tongue brush his lips. He opens his mouth, groaning deep and pulling back when Baekhyun starts to deepen the kiss. They connect again, Baekhyun’s hands still holding his cheeks and Chanyeol’s fingers curled around soft fabric. From soft and sweet, it changes, lips and tongues entwining, a sensual breath-cum-groan leaving Chanyeol slightly hard in his pants.

When they finally pull back, his breath is gone and he knows his lips are probably swollen. Baekhyun looks flushed, face pink but beautiful. Always beautiful. Wow. Chanyeol did that to him.

With a final brush against Chanyeol’s cheek, and one last peck to the tall man’s lips, Baekhyun sits back in his seat.

“See you later?”

Chanyeol nods, blinking and breathless.

“See you.”

He steps out and sends one last wave to the driver, watching Baekhyun’s car zoom down the street with foggy eyes.

Wow. 

*~*

Unsurprisingly, their relationship changes.

When Baekhyun comes in to Chen’s the week after, there’s fondness in his gaze. It’s different to the soft quality Chanyeol’s come to expect, something sweeter and intimate. They’ve crossed that boundary, the one wall Chanyeol had warily erected. On some level, he feels bad for going against his principles, for giving in to Baekhyun’s charms, but he tries to rationalise everything with himself. Tries to make himself feel better. They kissed outside of the club and Baekhyun didn’t pay him for it. He wasn’t selling himself.

He wasn’t.

He doesn’t want to feel like he is selling himself, and he worries that if they continue to do things—sexual things—Baekhyun would feel the need to pay for it.

It keeps him on edge to be so unsure about what’s going on with Baekhyun. He’s not usually one for unsurety, always keen on being certain about where things stand. He’s one for asking, for clearing up life’s strange ambiguities.

So, that’s what he does. He asks.

“Baekhyun?” The dancer sits next to the older man, watching as he swirls his whiskey in the clean cut glass.

“Hm, baby?”

Chanyeol bites his lip and sits up further, gown falling past his knees. Baekhyun interestedly stares at the expanse of skin. “Can I confirm something?” He keeps his voice deep, somewhat serious sounding, and it catches the older man’s attention immediately.

“Of course, what’s up?”

“Last week, when we kissed,” he starts off bluntly, staring into Baekhyun’s dark eyes. He’s serious about this and he wants a serious answer. “I don’t want to be paid for sexual favours.”

Baekhyun blinks.

“I like you Baekhyun and it seems that you like me too,” Chanyeol continues, planting both his feet on the ground. He sits forward, back curved and arms in between his legs. He stays rigid—strong, masculine. “If you’re interested in doing other things, other sexual things, I don’t want you to pay me for it, okay? You’re very generous, but I don’t want your money.”

Baekhyun seems to be taken aback, and he replies in turn. He says things about wanting to give Chanyeol money, but the dancer refuses. This is one thing he is going to stand his ground for. If they kiss, then they kiss—no transaction necessary.

“You can pay for me to dance for you, because that is my job, but no money for anything else, okay?”

Chanyeol feels a little presumptuous for expecting that Baekhyun would want to continue kissing him, but he’s not stupid. He can see there’s something different in Baekhyun’s eyes when they glance over at him. A small crook to his smile. The sight makes his heart pound because, well, he has a crush. So it makes him excited, makes him happy that Baekhyun kind of likes him too. Even if they probably have no real future, even if this is probably just a mere stepping stone, Chanyeol is enjoying the now. He likes gobbling up Baekhyun’s attention.

Eventually, Baekhyun agrees—quite sullenly—but he makes sure he’s allowed to do one thing.

“Gifts. Let me buy them for you.”

It seems harmless enough, so Chanyeol lets it go with a shrug.

That night, Baekhyun isn’t able to stay, but he gestures to Chanyeol to meet him in a secluded area just before he leaves. He kisses the dancer then, reaches up to pull the tall man down and kisses him so hard Chanyeol doesn’t think he’ll need a cock ring tonight.

He leaves a teasing bite by the edge of Chanyeol’s jaw, and exits with a wicked smirk, patting his white dress shirt down.

“Bye beautiful.”

Their relationship is truly strange. 

*~*

Somehow, life returns to normal. Well, not the old normal actually, but a new kind of normal. Chanyeol gets used to Baekhyun showing up and kissing the life out of him. It rattles him to his core, gives him hard-ons he has to unfortunately ignore, but it sends life through him. There’s a fire that runs through his veins, like his own concoction of drugs, fizzling through his skin and burning him whole. That’s Baekhyun’s effect. The man doesn’t even have to do much either. He says sweet things, runs fingers through Chanyeol’s hair and then kisses him.

They’ve done more than kiss too. The first time occurred during the middle of a lap dance, as it was always going to happen. Chanyeol teased and Baekhyun grabbed. By the end of it, Chanyeol was moaning in Baekhyun’s lap, wearing nothing but his gown, abs covered in cum. He has vague memories of Baekhyun running a finger through the white and licking it after, but he’s still unsure if that was actually a dream or not.

Of course, Chanyeol repaid the deed, trying to put his blow job skills to use. He admits that he isn’t the world’s best blow job giver, but the man seemed to enjoy it, curling his fingers in Chanyeol’s hair and muttering such sweet praises, the dancer still thinks about them today. The attention made Chanyeol nearly cum a second time.

Baekhyun didn’t pay him for it though, and that made Chanyeol feel good.

Occasionally, once in a while, Baekhyun messages him too. This happens when Baekhyun is unable to show up at the club, busy with work. He sends cute little texts asking about his day, asking if he's eaten yet. Sometimes, Chanyeol arrives at work and he’s given a little box from Kyungsoo, complete with a handwritten note signed by _B_.

He has a new Rolex watch, diamond earring stud and phone to replace his old piece of shit.

“I hope you know what you’re doing. What you’re getting yourself into,” Jongdae had said after delivering the third gift—the phone. He had seemed stern, probably worried for Chanyeol, but the tall man had just shrugged. Baekhyun wasn’t dangerous. Baekhyun was the opposite of dangerous. Generous. He was simply generous.

Baekhyun messages him, yes, but Chanyeol never messages first. He always waits for the man to send something before he even opens up the messaging app on his phone. He knows what they have right now isn’t something that’s going to last, so he’s trying not to develop real and proper feelings.

He’s probably failing on that level though, because he—secretly—feels almost too happy when he realises that Sehun is not receiving any gifts on the regular. It’s just Chanyeol.

He’s thinking about the gifts he received even now, at the convenience store. The latest one he opened (last night) makes his cheeks feel hot. He still remembers the note that had come with it too, written in Baekhyun’s neat handwriting.

_I hope you love it as much as I will.  
B_

A pair of lace panties.

Chanyeol pats his cheeks, a grin spreading across his face. Black, lace panties that seem like they’ll hide him well enough. Hide him well enough, all while making him look pretty as _fuck_. Probably, at least. He’s never worn lace panties before, having always worn briefs during work. It’s something that he’s been interested in, wondering what people would say. What would Baekhyun say? Would he call him by those names again? Tell him how beautiful he looks with his legs encased by black lace?

Baekhyun had sent him a text saying he’d come tonight, and told him to bring the panties along. So Chanyeol had kept them at home, freshly washed, eager to return back from his day shift and hide them in his night work bag.

He finds himself thinking about the pair of panties all day, cheeks blissfully red, and only stops when he’s forced to help customers.

“Oh!” He jumps a little in surprise, rubbing the back of his head bashfully. It’s the guy again, his newly regular customer. The same man who buys a pack of Dunhill Lights every Thursday. “Hello!” Chanyeol says with a loud grin.

The man stares at him, smile emerging on his own face. Chanyeol doesn’t know his name despite the fact that the man comes in weekly. He always pays with cash, so Chanyeol can’t even scant a glance at a credit card. He doesn’t say much though, usually just nods in the direction of the cigarettes and waits for Chanyeol to scamper back. What he does though, is stare. He stares at Chanyeol, and if the tall man wasn’t an exotic dancer who’s used to this kind of attention, he’d probably feel uncomfortable.

“How are you today?” Chanyeol hums, banishing all thoughts of lace panties from his mind.

“Good, you?”

“Not too bad,” he smiles happily, scanning the packet of smokes and waiting for the man to get his wallet out. The store is quiet on Thursdays because Sehun isn’t here to make his tasty goodies. Chanyeol never expected to get regulars, let alone regulars who come in on Thursdays. “Um, may I ask what your name is?”

The man stares at him and Chanyeol quickly backpedals.

“It’s just that you come here often! So I was just… wondering what your name is. So I can call you that. Um. Yeah,” Chanyeol grins embarrassed, rubbing his hair and biting his bottom lip.

“You’re cute,” is what the man says instead, exchanging money for the cigarettes and walking towards the entrance. Chanyeol blinks, puzzled. And shocked. He doesn’t expect to get anything further from the man, but just as the customer’s about to exit, he looks back towards the cashier. “It’s Lu Han, Chanyeol.”

Lu Han.

So that’s what his name is. He’s surprised that Lu Han has a foreign name, not having picked up on an accent of any kind.

The name sticks with him for the rest of the day. He can’t help but find the man’s behaviour a bit confusing. Chanyeol’s used to obvious leering, used to sexual words thrown at him, but he’s never met anyone so obvious with their looks during the _day_. Lu Han never does anything about it though. He just stares and buys his packet of smokes. Today was the first time he’d properly given Chanyeol a response, calling him _cute_ while he was at it.

Of course Chanyeol isn’t going to do anything about it. He’s busy with his jobs, and he has a _something_ going on with Baekhyun. They may not be exclusive but Chanyeol thinks what they have is enough to satiate his too obvious praise kink. Baekhyun treats him very well.

Still, he can’t help but think back to Lu Han. Chanyeol’s just never seen such blatant behaviour in the convenience store before. He doesn’t even wear what he does on stage, what does Lu Han find attractive?

He finds that he’s still thinking about the strange man when he arrives at work and starts his shift. Of course, that all goes away when he catches Baekhyun’s eye and remembers what he has left in his bag.

“Hi darling,” Baekhyun throws him a salacious grin, whiskey in hand. “Looking very beautiful today.”

“Not yet. I think I may look beautiful later on though,” Chanyeol responds breathlessly. Coy.

Baekhyun’s fingers clench around the glass.

Kris gives him a drink and Chanyeol does some floor work. He sees Sehun in the back room but walks away immediately when he catches a glimpse of that one boy talking to him. Probably asking about getting his hands on an 8-ball of coke.

Chanyeol had given Sehun the money but neither of the two spoke much about it. Sehun had just nodded, said thanks, and that was the end of it. It was too awkward, Chanyeol didn’t feel like stirring shit, and so they left it as that.

It shocks Chanyeol to see Sehun with that boy now, having forcefully ignored the situation. He has to talk about it with Sehun, has to know what’s going on with the other. It’s only been a short amount of time since the man started working at Chen’s—he’s still able to get out of dealing. Chanyeol truly cares about Sehun. As much as it is the other’s decision, he wants to make sure that Sehun is okay.

Now is not the time, not when they’re both busy. He carefully ignores a dealing in the back, averting his gaze from the sight of a few baggies.  

Now is not the time, he repeats to himself.

Instead, he forces himself to think about Baekhyun. The panties are hidden in the bottom of his bag, waiting to be put on. Even just the thought of slipping the material past his calves and up his thighs makes him antsy. He wants to know what Baekhyun would think about them, if he’d appreciate the sight. Well, of course he would, he always appreciates Chanyeol.

He gets Kyungsoo to usher Baekhyun to the room, settling in by himself. He bites his lip when he eventually drags the lingerie up his long legs, admiring the soft material against his skin. For once, he puts on his pair of jeans, planning to give Baekhyun a real strip show.

The seconds pass and Chanyeol waits. He’s wearing a shirt too and he knows he looks like a normal customer. A t-shirt and jeans, hiding the sensual weapon he has under his clothes. He can feel the lingerie, feel the tightness of the band across his hips.

God.

He’s already getting hard.

There’s a knock on the door and Chanyeol stands up as soon as Baekhyun walks in. He gets a curious glance from the man, probably wondering why he’s wearing clothes for once.

“Beautiful?”

“Hello,” Chanyeol grins, slightly bashful. As often as Baekhyun comes and as much as Chanyeol has gotten used to the other’s presence, it’s still a little mind-blowing that he gets to enjoy this gorgeous man’s company on the regular. Hell, now he even gets to kiss him on the regular.

“Did you like my present?” Baekhyun asks, dragging his gaze up and down the dancer’s figure. Chanyeol preens under the attention.

“I did, I really did.” He’s wearing the Rolex on his left hand too. “I’m wearing it for you.”

“Right now?” Baekhyun questions, smile quirking. He looks mischievous. “Underneath your clothes?”

“Only for you.”

Those words seem to ignite something in Baekhyun, who instantly sits up in his chair. There’s a hidden blaze in his eyes, a sharpness to his expression. He looks turned on and Chanyeol hasn’t even done anything yet.

It makes Chanyeol feel good, heart bursting in his chest. In the past, he was never this confident, never this sure of his abilities to please people. He found himself lingering on Jongin or Yixing, thinking he was lacking and that there was nothing he could do about it. But ever since Baekhyun started coming—ever since Baekhyun started spewing a litany of praises at him, _on_ him—he’s found himself opening up. There’s a certain kind of confidence to his moves now, knowing that people _do_ like him.

And not just people, but Baekhyun. Baekhyun likes his moves, Baekhyun thinks he’s sexy. There’s no reason for the man to say what he does without actually thinking so. The man sitting down in front of Chanyeol, dressed impeccably and almost overflowing with money, thinks that all 6 feet of Chanyeol is gorgeous and sensual.

“Do you want to see it, hyung?”

“Yes baby,” Baekhyun replies instantly, eyes not leaving Chanyeol. “I’d love to see it.”

“Okay.”

He starts the music then and gets ready to perform his routine. It’s similar to his normal lap dance show, except this time he’s fully clothed. He finds that it’s different wearing a t-shirt and curling around the pole, not nearly as sexual as it usually is. Baekhyun laps it up though, Baekhyun seems to lap up anything Chanyeol throws at him.

It builds his confidence, so he rolls his hips, carefully dragging the t-shirt over his head. He knows his abs are on display, arms in mid flex, and he can’t help but smirk when he imagines just what Baekhyun looks like. He sees a pair of glazed eyes a second later, and his smirk grows, now dressed only in his jeans.

“God,” Baekhyun sounds a little choked, and Chanyeol swirls his hips further. “I can see it peeking out above your jeans.”

Now that Chanyeol looks, he can see it too. The black lining, thin and lacy, is very much visible above the seam of his pants. Seductive. Baekhyun’s eyes are inevitably drawn to the sliver of fabric as Chanyeol walks closer.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” Baekhyun mutters, eyes not leaving Chanyeol. “So fucking beautiful.”

Chanyeol hums, turning around and bending over. He shakes his ass but the jeans restrict his movement. It’s then, while he’s shaking his ass right in front of the man, that he starts to pull his jeans down—inch by inch.

“Holy fucking shit.” He hears Baekhyun swear, languidly dragging the material down further and revealing the lace.

The panties are a lot different to the briefs he usually wears, similar to the underwear he knows most girls use. The fabric at the back is triangular in shape, on the precipice of not covering his ass at all. There’s a thin strip around his waist that connects the front with the back, the material soft, most likely satin. It’s a beautiful garment, and he knows that it probably looks good on him too.

“God baby, can I touch you?” Chanyeol hears from behind, still bent over with his ass raised in the air. He throws his jeans away, along with his pair of shoes, and turns around. Baekhyun looks so _ruined_ , so fucking destroyed by the sight of Chanyeol in this skimpy outfit and that makes the dancer’s gut clench painfully.

“Yes, of course you can,” he replies turning around and giving Baekhyun an eyeful of cock. He’s well on his way to becoming fully hard and that’s just from Baekhyun’s reaction to him.

As soon as Chanyeol mutters his assent, Baekhyun’s hands swoop up and grab him. They pull the dancer down to sit on a firm lap and clasp themselves around broad shoulders. Within an instant, Baekhyun is kissing him, lips incredibly eager and filled with passion. Chanyeol moans in surprise, raising his own arms to rest around the man’s shoulders, sinking into the kiss.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, I’m just in awe,” Baekhyun whispers when he pulls back, unable to stop himself from gazing at Chanyeol’s toned body. “I know I always say this, but you’re incredible Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol, not Loey. Chanyeol’s the one who’s incredible.

The words make him light up, cause him to grin wide, chest so, _so_ warm. Baekhyun is staring at him with those dazzling eyes of his, hands running up his spine and curling into the dancer’s hair. Despite how turned on the older man is, the way he’s touching Chanyeol is affectionate and careful. Safe. He’s always been very safe, never one to push Chanyeol’s boundaries.

But for once, Chanyeol kind of wants those boundaries to be pushed.

“Hyung,” he whispers, voice deep and growly. Baekhyun’s fingers clench around his skin. “Touch me.”

Seemingly not one to refuse such a demand, Baekhyun’s hands race down to grip Chanyeol’s ass. He massages the muscle, grips hard enough to make the tall man groan from deep in his chest.

“Like this?” He asks, hands still tight around Chanyeol. He slaps the muscle then, right hand whistling through the air and landing a short _doof_ against the skin.

“Yes,” Chanyeol breathes out, rolling his hips on Baekhyun. Their cocks are practically lined up. Baekhyun’s is still tucked neatly away in his pants, but Chanyeol’s is virtually out on display, head poking out through the lacy material.

“You like me touching you like this, gorgeous?” Baekhyun asks again, bronze hair falling into his eyes. His cute thin lips curl up into a smirk and _boy_ does Chanyeol want to kiss that one infuriating mole.

“Yes,” he repeats, feeling a hand slither around his thigh to grab his erection. “Fuck,” he hisses out loud, rolling his hips.

“Can you dance for me a little more, baby? I wanna see how pretty you look in this.”

As much as Chanyeol would like to stay seated on Baekhyun’s lap, feeling the man’s slender fingers curl around his hard cock, his heart burns for Baekhyun’s praise. He wants to hear the words spoken at him, wants to hear how good he’s being. So he stands up, adjusts his underwear, and then slut drops to the ground. He swivels his body, left hand sliding up his abs and right hand pulling gently at his lip.

“So, so beautiful, baby. Fuck, you’re absolutely stunning.”

He wishes he could do something especially impressive, like the splits or another move equally as sensual. It doesn’t seem to matter though because Baekhyun’s mouth keeps on running, sweet words flowing from his lips.

“I knew you were going to look divine in those panties. I knew it as soon as I saw them, but you’re so beautiful. You’re doing so well.”

The unconditional praise gets to him, it makes his chest feel light, makes him preen so fucking much. He loves the attention, loves the words, can’t help but feel so good. God, Baekhyun makes him feel like he’s on top of the world, like nothing could ever bring him down.

“Come here, sweetie.”

Chanyeol walks over and sits back in the man’s lap.

“I think you deserve a reward,” Baekhyun speaks, voice low. A thumb brushes against the uncovered skin of Chanyeol’s hip and the dancer shudders.

“A reward?” He repeats, cocking his head to the side.

“Yes, a reward,” Baekhyun looks amused, fingers still possessively gripped around Chanyeol’s waist. “So what do you say, would you like to fuck me or do you want me to fuck you?”

Chanyeol blinks. As often as he dreams about Baekhyun having his way with him, he’s never even thought about topping the man. Which is silly, now that he thinks about it. The image of him fucking Baekhyun while the man tells him just how good he’s doing, floats through his head and he bites his lip. God. Wow.

But at the same time, he can’t let go of the thought of Baekhyun stretching him wide, those beautiful fingers probing deep within and making him boneless.

“I want you to fuck me,” he responds after a minute of thought, the words leaving his mouth fast and hurried.

Baekhyun’s eyes narrow and he presses his lips to Chanyeol. When they part, wet and glossy, Chanyeol stalks towards the dresser and picks up a condom. Lube, too. This place isn’t the nicest to have sex in, but it’s convenient, filled with all the necessary ‘equipment’. What can he say, this is a room _for_ sex, _for_ prostitution. The only difference now is that Chanyeol isn’t getting paid for this. The lap dance? Sure. But this part? No.

Baekhyun asks him to lie face first on the long pleather couch, so Chanyeol does just that. A hand runs down his spine, from the tip to the base, leaving with a slap to the dancer’s covered ass.

“I wish I didn’t have to take these off you,” Baekhyun remarks, sounding slightly sad now that his fingers are pulling the panty material away. “I’ll buy some more for you.”

Chanyeol’s stomach flutters at the thought of wearing more sexy garments for the other.

“Can you go… slow?” Chanyeol asks, now bare. He’s completely bare on this couch, cock pressing hard into the material. He wonders how many guys have fucked here, just how unsanitary it is. God, he hopes Jongdae wipes down the place after every booking. How fucking gross. “I haven’t had anyone in a while.”

It’s been a long while since the last time he had sex. Occasionally, he fingers himself, but he hasn’t truly shoved something bigger than two fingers up there in a significant period. 

“Of course.”

Baekhyun’s fingers are slow, teasing. One hand grabs his ass cheek, pulling, while the other hand nudges at Chanyeol’s entrance. The older man rubs the area, tip of his index finger on the brink of entering. The lube is cool and it causes a shiver run through Chanyeol’s spine, face shoved in the couch.

“Please,” he whines, unembarrassed by his begging. “Please, hyung.”

A finger slips in then, aided by the slick lube. Fuck, Chanyeol raises his hips in the air. He hasn’t had _anything_ in him for so long, he nearly forgot what it’s like. It’s so nice to feel Baekhyun, so nice to feel his nimble fingers pushing deep within, opening him up.

Baekhyun takes his time, fingering Chanyeol with one hand while the other rubs at the dancer’s clenched rim. A stark burst of cold makes Chanyeol bite his lip and it takes him a few seconds to realise that the other has probably drizzled lube into his hole, gathering it and pushing it in.

“You’re so gorgeous Chanyeol, fuck.”

He has three fingers in now, in a somewhat triangular shape. The wet sounds, the loud squelching that comes from the lube, should be disgusting—but it isn’t. It’s sexy, so god damn hot, especially when he can’t stop thinking about what Baekhyun is doing to him. Occasionally, the older man uses his free hand to grab Chanyeol’s ass. Then, he slaps. Chanyeol breathes deep, a small _unf_ escaping his lips with every hit.

“Please Baekhyun, please _hyung_ ,” the words get caught on the back of his tongue, face hidden in the fabric.

“Mm, patience, baby.”

He says patience, but it doesn’t take long before he finally retracts his fingers. The moments before he pushes in once again—but with a different part of his body—feel so incredibly long. Chanyeol waits, impatiently, listening to the crack of the condom ripping.

“Ready, Chanyeol?” Baekhyun asks, left hand holding the dancer’s hip.

“Yes,” he groans, unable to stop himself from undulating his hips in want. “Fuck, _please_.”

Chanyeol’s mouth drops open when he feels the blunt weight push into him. It takes a few gentle thrusts before the head slips in, slickly dragging further into the dancer.

“Chanyeol, fuck, baby, you’re perfect. You feel so good around me.” Both of Baekhyun’s hands are clenched around Chanyeol’s waist, fingers pressing hard when he eventually bottoms out.

There’s a solid thickness inside of him now, undoubtedly heavy. Chanyeol breathes in a lungful of air when Baekhyun begins to thrust, head dropping onto a cushion. He doesn’t know what to think, let alone _say_ , when Baekhyun starts muttering sweet praises: _fuck_ ’s, _you’re beautiful_ ’s. Baekhyun’s chatter is relentless, the weight of his words almost as tight as the fingers around Chanyeol’s hips.

“So fucking gorgeous, mm. You take me so good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol breathes, undulating his hips, trying to parry the other’s thrusts.

Baekhyun’s fingers only tighten when Chanyeol groans—coarse and especially deep. There’s going to be fingerprints left behind after tonight, something the dancer doesn’t think he’ll mind. A dull pain to accompany the sting he’ll feel in his ass.

“Feel good, darling?”

“So, so good,” Chanyeol speaks into the couch, voice muffled. His eyes are closed, teeth pressing into his bottom lip. He forgot what this felt like, how it felt to enjoy having sex. The strange tingle in his ass when Baekhyun thrusts sends electricity down Chanyeol’s spine. It isn’t outright pleasure—the slide could be wetter, they could’ve spent more time on foreplay—but there’s a quality to it that causes the tall man to meet Baekhyun’s thrusts, to _want more_.

“You looked so fucking beautiful in those panties, darling. I wish you could wear them all the time. Imagine that, huh?” Baekhyun’s voice is crackly, breathy. He slows down with his thrusting, taking his time to ease his cock out and push back in, _hard_. Chanyeol bites his lip, muffling a groan. “Did you like them too?”

Chanyeol thinks he’s already said he likes the panties, but he says it again. Says it to make sure Baekhyun knows just how appreciative he is. “I do, _I do hyung_.”

“I’m so glad you do, baby.”

Baekhyun speeds up then, probably realises that time has passed and they both have jobs to do. The fast thrusting gets Chanyeol fully hard again, knocking somewhere close to his prostate. He can feel the frustrating pleasure prostate stimulation gives him with every thrust now, and it makes Chanyeol scrunch his face up. He’s close but not close, and the god damn annoying half-there-but-not-there pleasure causes him to whine, slightly pathetic.

“Sweetie, I’m close.”

It doesn’t take long before Baekhyun cums—or at least Chanyeol thinks he does. The man stops thrusting as fast, slowing down and burying himself deep in Chanyeol. He flips the dancer over then, bends down and gulps Chanyeol, sudden lips and tongue engulfing a hard cock.

Chanyeol squeaks, fingers gripping fabric. He wasn’t expecting that, wasn’t expecting Baekhyun to suddenly dislodge and then focus on _Chanyeol’s_ pleasure. It’s a shock, but it’s hot. It’s incredibly hot and Baekhyun’s _mouth_ is hot and—ugh.

It takes a few more minutes, but Chanyeol cums too. He pushes the man away and ends up spilling on his stomach, white spattering over his abs. After a few harsh breaths and heavy exhales, he opens his eyes.

Baekhyun is staring at him, eyes wide and lips crooked into a smile. He’s watching Chanyeol, intent, and the tall man feels his cheeks heat up.

“You’re staring.”

“You’re beautiful.”

Well then.

He stays on the couch, eyes falling shut again. Baekhyun somehow finds wet-wipes in one of the drawers and helps him clean up, fingers running by the side of Chanyeol’s jaw.

“Thanks for that, darling.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Chanyeol laughs, sitting up. He put his jeans back on without the panties, nose crinkling when his sensitive cock brushes against the denim material.

“I won’t pay you, but I still have to pay Chen for the room,” Baekhyun explains. Chanyeol had frowned at the sight of the man’s wallet, not wanting to see money exchanged. The older man walks closer to him again, sits on the seat, and holds Chanyeol’s hand. “We did this because we like each other, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, relieved. And slightly giddy. Baekhyun… likes him. Not that he should let that get to his head. Baekhyun likes him enough to fuck him. Chanyeol’s the same.

But, maybe Chanyeol likes Baekhyun a bit more than that. 

“I know you don’t want to be paid for this and I respect that.” Baekhyun is tinkering with Chanyeol’s fingers, almost comparing their hands. God, those hands were _in_ Chanyeol not too long ago. “I was just wondering if I could keep buying you things?”

“Don’t you have better things your money could go towards?” Is what Chanyeol says in return. As much as he loves the gifts, as much as he loves getting _spoiled_ , Baekhyun could probably use the money for more useful items.

“Nah.” The man says, offhandedly.

“Okay,” Chanyeol laughs.

Baekhyun leaves soon after with a kiss to Chanyeol’s lips and a promise to message him soon.

“Dinner, with me? Soon?”

“Oh!” Chanyeol blinks. A few seconds pass. “Yeah, okay, yeah.”

He thinks he accepted a lot more easily than he would’ve if Baekhyun hadn’t taken him to Ulsan. He’s already been across country with the man, has already eaten lunch with him—a small dinner is nothing.

But is it nothing, he thinks. There is always something undoubtedly romantic about 1 on 1 dinners. Something undoubtedly romantic when Baekhyun fucks him and then asks him out for dinner. It should make him pause, should make him stop and realise just what the fuck he’s doing, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to think about the possible bad outcomes of going out to dinner with Baekhyun. Chanyeol likes the man. He likes what he sees from Baekhyun, likes how the other treats him.

He doesn’t think his affections have been bought, despite his (for once) healthy bank account, but he does appreciate the gifts. Maybe his affections have been bought, then? Maybe he’s always just inwardly been a sugar baby looking for someone to finally buy him gifts? Maybe it’s that plus the fact that he kind of likes Baekhyun more than he should?

Chanyeol, one-hundred percent, knows that he shouldn’t be feeling like this for a customer—but he’s already made mistakes. He probably shouldn’t have started getting involved with Baekhyun, should’ve known not to cross the line before they even kissed. And yet, he ignored his gut feelings, ignored his instinct that’s kept him surviving and healthy all this long. It probably wasn’t his smartest idea, but Chanyeol thinks things are going well. Despite coming to a mostly illegal male strip club, Baekhyun doesn’t seem terribly shady. He just like boys who strip—who doesn’t? Chanyeol likes boys who strip, and he doesn’t think he’s a particularly bad person.

Baekhyun had even said he _liked_ him. What does that even mean? It could mean something, right? Something more, something exciting. Or it could mean nothing. It could mean that Baekhyun just likes him for his body and nothing else—but would he spend so much money on him, if he didn’t like him? Gosh, Chanyeol has no clue. He really should stop thinking about all of this.

But… maybe.

*~*

_Dinner tonight?_

_I am free~~~_

_Yay!_

Chanyeol snorts. Baekhyun didn’t really seem like the type of guy to say ‘yay’ through text, but the fact that he does is oddly grounding.

_Pick you up from that bus stop at 6?_

_Okey doke_

“You’re texting that guy a lot.”

“Hm?” Chanyeol looks up from his phone. He shakes his arms, standing to full height. Sehun is propped up next to him, on his own phone, occasionally checking to see if anyone’s lingering by the hotteok section.

“That guy,” Sehun nods towards Chanyeol’s phone. “Texting him. A lot.”

“You can say his name,” he responds, dry. “I know he used to be your customer too.”

“He used to be my what?” Sehun’s eyes drop open wide.

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol says, without jealousy. He’s gotten over this now. Jutting his head out, he waves his hand in the air. “He said you told him about our convenience store.”

“Oh.” Sehun replies, short-wordish. He runs a hand through his hair and stands up straight. “Yeah, sorry.”

_Smart casual_

_That’s the style btw_

_Clothing style_

_For tonight_

_Lol_

_Ok????_

_Will do, cowboy_

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea to get involved with him.”

“What?” Chanyeol cocks his head to the side.

“It might be dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” A person who sends four messages to explain that he wants Chanyeol wearing smart casual clothes for their date isn’t someone he’d normally categorise as dangerous.

“Yeah.” Sehun nods, playing with his fingers. “What do you _really_ know about him? He could be really shady. Dangerous.”

“Shady?” Chanyeol feels like he’s just repeating everything Sehun’s saying, though he can’t help but feel slightly annoyed. Sure Baekhyun might’ve gone to Sehun in the past, but Chanyeol’s spent a _lot_ more time with the man. Maybe Sehun’s right, he doesn’t know Baekhyun that well, but he doesn’t think he’s _shady_. Doesn’t think he’s _dangerous_.

Just because he hangs around a mostly illegal strip club, tendering money off to hapless boys, doesn’t mean he’s dangerous.

Okay, that wasn’t the best description.

“Yeah, shady. Yeah, dangerous. I just don’t think it’s a good idea, Chanyeol. You should probably stay away from him.”

Chanyeol’s brow furrows. “What _I_ think is dangerous is the fact that you’re dealing drugs on the regular, Sehun.”

Sehun’s mouth pops shut.

“Yeah, you can’t hide this from me. I saw you. I handed you the money. I heard what you dabble in—coke, MDMA? What else? Good stuff too, huh? Didn’t I warn you?” Once Chanyeol starts, he can’t stop. The fact that Sehun is ready to lecture him about life choices when the other is the one dealing hard drugs? It’s ridiculous. Ridiculous that Sehun thinks he should be lecturing him. Ridiculous that Sehun thinks he can get away with dealing in a country like theirs. That’s what’s fucking dangerous, not _Baekhyun_. “What happens if you get caught, Sehunnie?” He tries, again, this time less hostile. More worried. And that’s because he is worried. He’s terrified for Sehun.

“Hyung…” Sehun is staring at the counter, a strangely hard look in his eye. “Don’t worry about me.”

It’s the worst kind of response Chanyeol can get, because if anything, this means that Sehun doesn’t want to stop. Isn’t going to stop so easily.

“What are you dealing?” Chanyeol asks, soft.

Sehun’s eyes are averted from Chanyeol’s. “Like you said—blow, E, heroin, mostly. Occasionally some psychs. It depends.”

God, Chanyeol had already known this to some extent, but now that it’s confirmed? It’s bad. It’s horrible. A sick feeling churns in his stomach.

“Are you apart of the Chil Sung Pa?”

“How do you even know that name?” Sehun asks, mouth wide open. He shakes his head, once, then twice. “No, _no_ , I’m not apart of the Chil Sung Pa.”

“I think _everyone_ knows about the Chil Sung Pa.” Especially those who work in shady strip clubs in the darker areas of Itaewon. He sighs. “Yeah, you don’t have the tattoo.” Sehun doesn’t have any tattoos for that matter. Chanyeol would know—he now sees Sehun nearly naked on a regular basis.

“Hyung, don’t worry about me. I’m not going to get caught.”

 _How do you know that!_ Chanyeol wants to yell. He wants to grab Sehun by the shirt and shake him up. Get it through his thick skull that his young twenty-three year old ass isn’t invincible. It’s not safe. _This_ is not safe. And yet, Sehun looks so sure of himself—eyes wide but serious, posture stiff and yet calm. This isn’t something Chanyeol will be able to easily talk him out of, not anymore.

Usually, he wouldn’t say a thing. He knows how common this is, knows just _how_ many boys at the club deal regularly. It’s a thing that happens, that’s incredibly pervasive in their club culture. And yet, this is Sehun. Chanyeol brought Sehun into this. Chanyeol is fucking _responsible_ for this.

He hates drugs, despises the fact that people can get so fucked up on the substances that they’d go and crash their cars into innocent civilians. And yet, Chanyeol brought Sehun into this world—groomed him and helped him, and allowed him to get so stuck into this, he doesn't even want to leave.

They’re friends but they’re not long term friends. It’s been barely a year and a half—not long enough for Chanyeol to parade around saying he’s going to stop Sehun from ruining himself.

Despite that, Chanyeol knows he loves Sehun. Knows he really cares for him. He wants to get the younger man out of this, out of it right _now_.

“Do you use the stuff you deal as well?” He asks, soft. There’s an ache in his chest, something that isn’t going away, like an open wound. Dull. Relentless.

“Hyung…”

Chanyeol isn’t looking up. He doesn’t dare to see what Sehun looks like, but he can hear the pain in the other’s voice. It’s a personal question, and it’s probably become even more personal now that Chanyeol’s gone and shown just how much he dislikes drugs. He, probably, shouldn’t have asked—but he couldn’t help himself.

“Yeah,” Sehun eventually relents, with a sigh. “I do.”

“Okay,” Chanyeol swallows. He opens his mouth to start ranting, to tell Sehun just how stupid he’s being—but he stops himself. Not his business. Not his fucking business.

“Hyung,” Sehun voice sounds choked-up, pained. “I don’t want this to put a strain on our relationship.”

Chanyeol doesn’t want that either. He has lots of friends that actively deal, that use the substances on a day to day basis. It’s fine with him, doesn’t bother him as much as he thinks it would’ve a few years ago—but this time? This time it’s not just a boy Chanyeol sees at work and occasionally talks to, this is _Sehun_. This is about his best friend, arguably, his only _real_ friend. He doesn’t want to see anything bad happen to Sehun, _not_ to Sehun.

Finding out that Sehun is apart of this now, Chanyeol feels like he needs to butt in, that it’s become apart of his own business. Rationally, he tries to tell himself that Sehun isn’t technically doing anything truly harmful. It’s not like he’s actively murdering anyone. But Chanyeol can’t shake the bad feelings away, can’t shake the thought that the last time he was in a church, he was saying goodbyes to his parents because of the very same substances Sehun is using, regularly.

“I’m sorry Sehun, I just need some time.” He tries, and turns away. He hasn’t said anything about his parents, hasn’t divulged the truth. Not yet.

Chanyeol hears another sigh, this one harsher.

“Yeah, okay.” A pause. “This is my life, you know.”

“Well, if so, don’t police me for going out with Baekhyun,” Chanyeol brings up again, albeit belatedly. He feels childish when the words leave his mouth. All the pain and hurt from learning about Sehun combined with the fact that he’s happy with Baekhyun. What he’s doing with the elder man isn’t morally ambiguous, hasn’t hurt him in any way shape or form. Sure, diving into whatever he’s doing with Baekhyun might be a little reckless, a little stupid, but it’s not… it’s not fucking drugs. Chanyeol isn’t killing parents.

He bites his lip. Sehun isn’t killing parents either, he reminds himself. God, he knows that. It’s just so hard for him to disassociate the fact that the man who killed his parents was an outlier, part of a minority of consumers who use irresponsibly.

“Okay,” Sehun eventually relents. Chanyeol turns to face the younger man, watching his head droop in acceptance. Pained acceptance. “I won’t bother you about him anymore.”

Chewing on his bottom lip, Chanyeol tries to say the same words in return. It’s what he’s supposed to do—but he can’t. He won’t promise that he’ll stop bothering Sehun, not that he'll regularly bother the other man in the first place. Instead, he’ll be on the look-out. If things go wrong, Chanyeol will be there for Sehun. Will always be there for him.

They turn back to work, and Sehun tries to lighten up the atmosphere with a few jokes. Chanyeol smiles, but it’s unlike the grin he normally has plastered on his face. There’s a reason why he’s called the ‘happy virus’ in the club, exuding energy with every step he takes. Today however, most of that energy has dissipated, leaving behind a slightly dulled Chanyeol.

He can’t stop thinking about Sehun, about what the younger man has got himself into. In the past, he wouldn’t have given a shit about the other’s involvement. Drugs were nothing to him. The thought that he’d ever see one in his life, let alone witness people using them on the regular, was fanciful. A thought that belonged to someone who lived in a country that wasn’t theirs, a country that didn’t heavily ban any sort of illicit substance. Something that belonged in those US television shows he occasionally found himself watching.

He had no real attachment to substances, didn’t care if people used them or not. But, now. Things are different. Things are so fucking different, Chanyeol can’t even begin to start. Should he be so biased? Maybe. Maybe not. He doesn’t know what’s right, if there’s a ‘right’ in this kind of situation. All he knows is that he doesn’t have the tolerance he used to have, now that he’s been personally affected and knows the true power of drugs.

His mood stays with him the rest of the day, continuing into the night even when he realises he has a date to go on. He tries to bring his positive attitude back, but it’s hard.

It’s not until Baekhyun arrives at the bus stop, a _different_ car this time, that Chanyeol genuinely smiles again.

“Jaguar?”

“I like cats,” Baekhyun shrugs, fashionable sunglasses on even at night. Chanyeol’s heart thumps. “Get in.”

The leather smells new and looks nice under the ambient lighting. It feels even nicer when he paths a hand down the side of his chair. He eventually turns to face Baekhyun, blinking when he finally takes in the handsome man.

He’s dressed nice today—clothes more stylish than they usually are. He isn’t wearing a suit, more dressed down than Chanyeol’s used to. A pair of dark bluey-grey pants with a t-shirt hidden under a jacket. It’s casual, even if it’s a lot fancier than what Chanyeol would usually deem as casual. It’s casual for Baekhyun at least, who usually is hidden under layers of European suits that’d make a man sweat in winter.

God. He’s beautiful.

“Hello,” Baekhyun grins at him, leaning over the gear shift and kissing Chanyeol on the lips. “Looking gorgeous as always.”

“Hi,” he breathes out, chasing Baekhyun’s lips. The older man acquiesces him, resting a palm on his cheeks and giving Chanyeol what he wants.

Instantly, Chanyeol’s mood lifts. Baekhyun drives them to their date with a smile on his face. It’s a smile that Chanyeol reciprocates, leaning back into his seat. It’s strange how potent Baekhyun’s smile is, thin lips spreading wide and making the man look a lot younger. Makes him look like he’s in his early 20s. Makes him look, possibly, like a college student—if a college student wore jackets priced at a million won.

Meanwhile, Chanyeol is wearing his own set of nice-ish clothes. Definitely not tailor-made or anything, but he thinks his forearms and biceps are framed quite nicely. He occasionally catches Baekhyun shooting a few sneaky glances that are really not so sneaky at all.

Unlike the last time Chanyeol was in Baekhyun’s car, he doesn’t feel awkward. Or at least, not as awkward as before. There’s obscure 2am club radio playing at 6pm, but it’s soft, barely loud enough to disrupt their conversation. They speak about a number of different things—Baekhyun’s trip to Jeju a few days ago, Chanyeol’s neighbour’s new dog. It’s surprisingly domestic, domestic enough to make Chanyeol’s stomach churn in confusion.

He thinks that if he lets himself, he could probably fall for Baekhyun.

The restaurant is nice, not too fancy that Chanyeol feels terribly out of place, but fancy enough that his wallet is probably going to cry a bit. Baekhyun’s a good date. He doesn’t pull Chanyeol’s chair out or anything, but he’s thorough with his conversation. Once his eyes are set on Chanyeol, the tall man feels like everything he’s saying is being very much digested by Baekhyun, listening intent. The man responds in the same vein, focused and engaged.

It’s a little overwhelming for Chanyeol who’s unused to such treatment outside of the club. Baekhyun stares him in the eyes, and _absorbs_  everything he says.

“Do you feel like drinking tonight?” Baekhyun asks, flipping through the drinks menu.

“Do they have your 500-year-old aged whiskey?” Chanyeol jokes, glancing at the glossy page. He doesn’t really feel like alcohol, but he won’t let the man drink by himself.

“I’m actually really surprised Chen’s has what I like. It’s really good quality stuff, you should try it sometime.”

Chanyeol scrunches his face. “Yeah, no, yuck.”

Baekhyun laughs, mouth wide. “You’re so typical, I think I’ve nearly bought out their entire Grey Goose selection for you.”

Grey Goose? Fancy. “Pot calling the kettle black, I think you’re the only one who even drinks that top shelf poison.”

Baekhyun looks offended. “Poison? Please. You just have a juvenile palate,” he sniffs, sitting up in his seat before he eventually laughs. “Did I sound pompous enough?”

“I thought you were from the Joseon era for a second.”

“I don’t think the Joseon era had Glenfiddich scotch. Unless it did, then I totally wouldn’t mind being from there.”

Chanyeol smiles, taking a sip of his water. The food comes then, all fancy and neatly plated up, and he gets ready to dig in.

“You feel alright today, sweetheart?” Comes when his mouth is filled with food.

“Huh?” He swallows, blinking. Wow. He’s surprised that Baekhyun caught on.

“It’s just,” the elder frowns slightly, waving his hand in the air. “You weren’t looking the happiest earlier on. Wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

Baekhyun is staring at him with such a sincere expression on his face, like he wants to know what’s wrong. Like he wants to know so he can try to do something to fix things.

“I just had… an argument with my friend,” he sighs, twirling his chopsticks through his soup, catching on a piece of meat. Chanyeol shrugs, forcing a smile on his face. “It’s nothing, don’t worry.”

He doesn’t want to ruin their date.

“Hey,” Baekhyun’s voice is soft, a little tender. Chanyeol looks up from his food to stare at the other. “You can vent to me, okay? You just looked a little sad. I wanted to make sure that everything was okay.”

Chewing the corner of his lip, Chanyeol hesitates. In reality, he _does_ want to vent. The weight of Sehun’s admission has been dragging his heart down, turning his usually jovial attitude sour. There’s been an ache in his chest, a heaviness to his breaths. Maybe if he vents, he might feel better.

“Are you sure?” He confirms.

“Of course,” Baekhyun smiles, sincere.

“Well…” he sighs, unsure where to start. “Sehun, he’s been my friend for a bit now. It was me who brought him into the whole dancing business, and today we had a fight.”

It wasn’t really a fight—hardly any shouting, just firm voices. He was angry though. Angry and hurt.

Baekhyun brings his hand closer, reaches over the table and grips at Chanyeol’s fingers. The warmth spreads from their point of contact, sizzling through the younger’s skin towards his chest.

“It was just…” he stops. He shouldn’t be outing that Sehun is a dealer. This isn’t Baekhyun’s business, it’s not even _Chanyeol_ ’ _s_ business, need he remind himself. If what he experienced today has taught him enough, it’s the fact that these are Sehun’s decisions and Sehun’s only. Chanyeol outing the other’s usage and dealing, even if just to Baekhyun, could get him in a _lot_ of trouble.

Despite that, Chanyeol wants to tell someone. He wants to bare his heart to Baekhyun, explain just how much he despises drugs. He doesn’t think he’s told anyone before, hasn’t really delved into the topic. Sure, Baekhyun knows how his parents died, but there’s always been this layer Chanyeol’s been hiding behind, a thin visage masking his real pain.

“Darling?” A thumb swishes past his knuckle, soft and sweet.

He sighs, letting his head droop. He’s not going to reveal Sehun’s secrets. Not today. “We just had a fight, and I wasn’t feeling the best because of it.”

Baekhyun is quiet, but he continues to rub at Chanyeol’s fingers, reassuring. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me. I’m here for you though, okay?”

Chanyeol’s heart thumps, and despite his previous attitude, a smile crosses his face. “Thank you.”

The atmosphere remains a little somber throughout their dinner, and Baekhyun continues to hold his left hand as they eat. It’s nice though, comforting, and Chanyeol is grateful for the other’s presence.

Baekhyun doesn’t let go of his hand. Not when they stand up and catch a number of stares their way, not when they pay for the food, not when they eventually leave and walk down the dark streets of Gangnam. It bolsters a specific type of emotion in Chanyeol’s chest, something that has been building ever since he saw the man today, sitting in his car with a pair of fashionable sunglasses on his face. A warmth in his chest, a buzz in his fingertips. The buzz only increases when he feels the slow but firm grip on his hand, keeping him close.

“It’s getting a little chilly,” Baekhyun notes, huddling slightly closer. It’s only when they stand that Chanyeol really notices their height difference. He tends to tower over most people and it’s the exact same with Baekhyun. From this distance, he can see the top of Baekhyun’s head, right down to the slight regrowth of black hair among the bronze.

“I thought I was going to need gloves, but maybe I don’t anymore,” he jokes, raising their combined hands in the air. Baekhyun grins at him and starts to swing their arms, somewhat like a child, the arc imperfect but genuine.

“I’ll be your own personal heater.”

“Sounds like that line from that Western movie Twilight.”

“I think I have more Edward Cullen hair, though. You have Jacob Black’s height,” the older man gestures with his chin, nudging him with his elbow. “I liked Jacob the best though, so it makes sense I like you.”

“I find it funny to think that a rich CEO watches the Twilight saga movies in his spare time,” Chanyeol notes, lips stretching into a grin. He can imagine Baekhyun in his, most probably, fancy as fuck bed, curled up wearing silk pyjamas and watching Kristen Stewart on his flat-screen TV. It’s a cute image.

“Hey,” Baekhyun pouts, and the sight is undeniably adorable. “We’re people too, okay. We have lives as well. Pop-culture doesn’t suddenly disappear from our circles.”

“Saying that automatically makes you one hundred percent less scary.”

“Was I scary before?” Baekhyun blinks, and turns his head to face Chanyeol.

“Well…” Chanyeol begins. Scary isn’t the right word. Just… intense. “Not really. You’re just a little intimidating?” His voice trails off, turning high-pitched towards the end. Shrugging, he laughs, slightly awkward. “You’re very intense. Very thorough.”

Baekhyun hums, with a nod. Then, he smiles. “You’d think with how often I tell you how good you are, I’d be less intimidating.”

It’s dark, not too late but late enough for a lot of people to have already gone to sleep, so Chanyeol knows that the blush highlighting his face is probably not very obvious. It feels super obvious though, burning his cheeks through. He’s never talked about his praise kink before and Baekhyun’s never brought it up.

“Oh, um.”

“You’re so cute, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun squeezes his hand, voice fond. “I had a really nice time tonight.”

Oh. Ending so soon?

“I did too,” he says, slowing to a stop. Baekhyun’s fingers are still wrapped around his own, warm and soft. Chanyeol stares down at the shorter man, feeling so, so happy. “It was really nice.”

“I would love to invite you back to my place but I have some work to do.”

Chanyeol can’t deny the fact that he’s a bit disappointed by those words, but he shakes it away. “That’s fine, I’ll see you soon?”

“Let me drop you back first, hasty one,” Baekhyun reaches up and bops Chanyeol on the nose. The tall man scrunches his face in mock anger, jutting his jaw out, pretending to bite Baekhyun’s fingers. “Didn’t realise the man I’m seeing is a shark in disguise.”

“I prefer dog.”

“Dog-shark.”

“Just dog, thanks.” Chanyeol grins.

The car ride is short, and Chanyeol feels sad when they eventually reach the familiar bus stop. He stays in the car, listening to Baekhyun cut the engine and waiting for his good night kiss.

Baekhyun doesn’t disappoint. He reaches over the gear shift and holds Chanyeol’s face in his palms. They kiss for a long time, mouths connected and breaths intertwined. Chanyeol’s fingers are curled up by Baekhyun’s collar. He wishes he could just pop the buttons and run his hands over the man’s chest.

“Fuck,” Baekhyun swears, pulling back. His lips are wet, eyes glazed. “Fuck, I want you so bad.”

Chanyeol lets out a deep groan, eyes falling shut at the words. “Same.”

“But I gotta go.”

“Yep.”

Baekhyun kisses him again, whining. Chanyeol chases the noises down, wanting to hear the soft grunts again and again.

“I really gotta go.”

“Uh-huh.” Chanyeol kisses up Baekhyun’s jaw, nuzzling his nose under the bone.

“Time… time is running.”

“Mm,” Chanyeol grunts, eventually slotting their lips back together. They kiss for a little longer, Chanyeol now visibly semi-hard in his pants.

“Okay, okay.” Baekhyun is the one to pull back, but he seems very displeased by it. He sits straight up in his seat and runs a hand through his hair. The flush on his face is distracting and Chanyeol wishes he could plant more kisses on the older man.

“Sorry.” He’s not really sorry.

“No, no,” the bronze-haired man shakes his head. He clears his throat. “Are you free tomorrow? Would you like to come over?”

Chanyeol is free. Chanyeol would love to come over.

“Yeah,” he says with a smile. “That would be great.”

*~*

Sehun doesn’t come into work the next day.

He sends a text message saying he’s unwell and that he’s sorry. Chanyeol doesn’t know what Sehun’s sorry for.

He gets a second text message late morning and surprisingly, it’s from Yoora. The only thing it says is that she’s back in Seoul and that she can’t wait to visit her brother.

The third message he gets comes in the afternoon, just as Chanyeol’s about to swap shifts with Minhyuk. This one is from Baekhyun.

_Do you like pasta?_

_Who doesn’t like pasta_

_?_

_Nice_

It’s vague but Chanyeol has an inkling he knows what that whole exchange was about. He’s no Sherlock Holmes but they’re still meeting up in a few hours. The thought of seeing Baekhyun again makes him a little antsy. They had only met the night before and yet Chanyeol _already_ wants to see him again. Chanyeol wants to see him and kiss him and perhaps even take his clothes off and dance for him—if the other so wants.

He also wouldn’t mind sitting on that cock. Or Baekhyun on his. He’s not picky.

He can’t help but find it funny just how quickly his mood is able to change as soon as he thinks about Baekhyun. It’s been a few months now since the man had started coming to Chen’s and their relationship has grown a lot in turn. He thinks they have enough between them to declare that they’re in _some_ kind of relationship. Some kind, being the specifier of course. Chanyeol hasn’t really asked Baekhyun about the details. Normally, he would. Normally, he’d be the one making sure they were both on the same page—but this time?

He’s kind of scared. It’s almost like if he gives weight to the fact that there’s something between them, if he puts a name on what they have, it’ll suddenly crumble beneath them. As much as Chanyeol likes spending time with Baekhyun, opening up—and baring himself, fully—to the other, he finds that there’s still gaps between them. Which, he assumes, is normal. It’s been a few months, but their ‘real’ relationship has only just started blossoming.

Chanyeol likes the fuzzy feelings fluttering in the pit of his stomach every time he catches a glimpse of the older man. It’s the kind of feelings that are limited to a new relationship—and so Chanyeol _wants_ to enjoy it. Wants to enjoy biting his lip and patting his warm face when Baekhyun does something especially cute.

When he finishes his shift, he goes home and has a shower. He lathers sweet smelling body wash over his skin and rinses gently with warm water. The clothes he chooses to wear aren’t anything special—nice enough to look like he at least kind of gives a shit but still somewhat comfortable. He doesn’t pack a bag with pyjamas for the sake of not wanting to look presumptuous, but he does still sneak his toothbrush in. Just in case.

It should be embarrassing just how excited he is, but he doesn’t give a shit. It’s been so long since he’s last indulged in a relationship, a few years at the very least. Currently, Chanyeol’s been so busy with work, so drained from juggling between two jobs, that a relationship has been out of the equation. It’s only because Baekhyun had fallen into his lap—or more, the other way around—that he’s found himself going the extra mile, changing his schedule to meet the other.

It kind of helps that Baekhyun comes to see him at work too.

Most of their alone time has been spent at the club, even after they came back from Ulsan and started this… whatever this is. But Baekhyun _has_ shown interest that he wants to continue what they have even outside of the club—and that makes Chanyeol happy. It’s because of that, that Chanyeol truly wants to put the effort in to make ‘this’ work, even if he is always very much drained.

And so, Chanyeol texts Baekhyun his real address.

But he’s in an apartment block anyway, so Chanyeol just meets the other on the street. Baekhyun’s brought his Porsche today.

“Hello!” Chanyeol says, bubbly, reaching over to kiss the other.

“Hi hi,” Baekhyun laughs, peppering the younger’s nose with a few chaste kisses. “Someone’s happy today.”

Rubbing his stomach, Chanyeol groans. “I’m so fucking ready for pasta.”

“Oh, I see how it is. Just the pasta, huh?”

“It’s pasta man, can you blame me?”

Baekhyun sniffs, a little haughtily—but then he laughs and nudges Chanyeol in the side. “Okay, you make a fair point.”

“I always make good and fair points,” Chanyeol notes, watching them pass from suburb to suburb. It doesn’t surprise him when they eventually reach Gangnam and enter into Apgujeong. Baekhyun has wealth, it only makes sense.

“How was your day?” Baekhyun asks him, leaving a hand to rest by Chanyeol’s thigh. He drives with one hand, occasionally squeezing the tall man’s leg.

“Not too bad. Nothing eventful,” he shrugs. Without Sehun, store life is very boring. Chanyeol had plans on apologising today too, to say sorry for acting so skittish around the other. He wants to tell Sehun about his parents, just so his friend can kind of understand where he’s coming from. “How about you?”

Baekhyun hums, thumb rubbing circles into Chanyeol’s quadriceps. “Uneventful too. Tiring though. Always tiring.”

Chanyeol hums too, gently placing his hand over Baekhyun’s. “Can’t delegate anything?”

A head shake. “No, not this kind of work.”

“Oh.” He wonders what CEOs do, always assuming they were mere figureheads. 

The car turns off and Chanyeol realises they’ve probably arrived. When he looks out the window into the dark night, he’s surprised to see a _house_ instead of an apartment. All sharp, white angles and angular modern design. The house looks very pretty, very chic, and this is just the outside.

“Wow,” he whistles, loud. It looks even nicer when he’s standing outside of the car, unblocked by tinted windows.

Baekhyun laughs, even louder. “Come in, come in.”

Surprisingly, maybe unsurprisingly, the interior is even nicer. There’s lots of paintings decorating the walls, trinkets hanging from small alcoves. If Chanyeol was superstitious, he’d probably think the feng shui was up to standard. Heck, he’s not superstitious and he still thinks the feng shui is probably great.

“This is really, really nice,” he says, taking his shoes off and leaving it by the entrance. He does a 360, and then a 720. 2 full spins. “Like, really, really nice.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Baekhyun reaches a hand out and Chanyeol takes it instantly, eager to be led and shown the rest of the place.

He gets a grand tour. Two spare bedrooms—both with ensuite bathrooms attached. The garage. The laundry. When they get to the kitchen, Chanyeol almost jumps out of Baekhyun’s embrace, feeling the need to dance.

“How the hell is this so spacious?” He releases his arms and twirls in another circle. Maybe he should consider becoming a ballerino. “I could do my routine in here.” And as if to prove his statement, he promptly slut drops to the floor. Y’know. Just as one does.

“Fuck.” He hears, raising up to full height and catching Baekhyun’s eye. “You’re not allowed to do that until after I finish making the pasta.”

That instantly takes Chanyeol’s attention away and he perks up, blinking fast and scooting towards the kitchen table. “You’re _making_ the pasta?!”

“Well,” Baekhyun grins, sheepish. “I’ll try. If I fail, we might have to order takeaway.”

“I can help,” he offers, gently nudging the other in the shoulder.

“Good cook?” The older man asks, taking the ingredients out from the pantry.

“Eh,” he shrugs, playing with the hem of his oversized sweater—but then he smiles, wide. “Pretty good, I think.”

Baekhyun looks impressed, dropping the fresh pasta—rich people, Chanyeol thinks—onto the table.

It doesn’t take long before they’re in the midst of cooking. Fragrant spices bubble from their pot on the stove, another pot of pasta boiling right next to it. As much as Baekhyun promised to make the food, Chanyeol’s found himself taking control, chopping up vegetables to add into the sauce and pouring oil in the pasta to make sure the strands don’t stick together.

“My mother was planning on opening up an Italian restaurant,” he reveals, sprinkling in oregano. A warmth builds in his heart as he remembers little snippets of her various cooking adventures. “She taught me a lot as a child. I don’t know why she never opened a restaurant. That was her greatest passion.”

Baekhyun nods, grating cheese. He stays quiet, mixing the fancy pecorino into the sauce. “You really miss her.”

“Of course,” Chanyeol presses his lips together, shrugging, trying to remain casual. “Every single day. It’s not the same. It hasn’t been the same.”

He doesn’t think it’ll ever be the same, no matter how much time will eventually pass. Their deaths were so abrupt. One day they were there, living their lives, the next, they were gone. Chanyeol thinks he was close with them, especially with his mother.

“Every day,” he repeats with a sigh. The warmth he felt just previously thinking about his mother has run cold, has turned into the unresolved pain he experiences occasionally. He has no closure. He _needs_ closure. “Fuck.”

He drops the utensils and forces himself to breathe. Taking a few seconds to calm down, he vaguely recognises Baekhyun’s hands gripping his own, softly rubbing into his skin.

“Sorry,” he apologises, voice soft. He keeps his hands wrapped around Baekhyun, a simple reminder that he’s not alone. The older man doesn’t say a word, keeping quiet. What he does however, is continue to rub circles into the skin of Chanyeol’s palm. “I just—it still hurts. A lot. And it’s all because of some fucking drugs.”

His forehead scrunches, eyebrows furrowing, when he suddenly thinks back to Sehun. Chanyeol just doesn’t understand, doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to understand. Sure, he knows the technical aspects of what drugs help achieve—increases serotonin levels, increases dopamine, changes your perspective so you can see some fucking light fractals or some shit. On the molecular level, he understands there’s reasons to like drugs, and that’s why people do them regularly, but at the same time, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be a sympathiser. Not anymore.

“I just wish people knew the fucking consequences of what they’re taking,” he bites his lip. There’s arms hugging around his waist, a head pressed against his throat. Baekhyun is small enough to nearly fit under his chin, small enough to bury himself in Chanyeol’s chest. The tight grip around his waist though, is comforting, and Chanyeol hugs back. “They’re so fucking stupid, it’s so fucking _stupid_.”

Baekhyun presses a kiss against his collarbone, leaves another one under the skin of Chanyeol’s chin. He continues to keep his arms wrapped tight around the younger man, only parting with one final kiss to Chanyeol’s lips.

“Sorry,” he says again, letting his head droop.

“Don’t apologise.” Baekhyun takes his hands and runs them through Chanyeol’s hair. Inevitably, he forces their eyes to catch, forces them to remain stuck in each other’s gaze. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

As gentle as could be, Baekhyun slots their lips together. It’s soft, so fucking soft, Chanyeol’s heart burns. There are still fingers in his hair, Baekhyun’s body stock still against his—but the kiss? The kiss is so sweet, so gorgeous, so fucking precious Chanyeol _aches_.

A burning smell is the only thing that causes Chanyeol to realise something’s amiss, and when he does, he quickly jumps back. The food.

“Oh!” Fuck. The pasta sauce.

He checks, sighing in relief when he sees it isn’t totally ruined. There’ll definitely be a noticeable burnt taste to it though.

“Uh oh.” Baekhyun back-hugs him, looking over into the pot. “Divine intervention? Telling us not to get frisky in the kitchen?”

Chanyeol laughs, stirring the contents with a spatula. That was the least frisky sexual encounter he thinks he’s ever participated in. Instead, it’s probably the most wholesome. He’s never felt like this from a kiss before. So warm. It’s breathtaking.

The previous melancholy atmosphere dissolves when Chanyeol falls back into cooking. It’s neither the time nor place to have a breakdown, even if Baekhyun is so accommodating. Without closure, the breakdowns continue to occur, continue to keep him up at night when he finds himself thinking about his parents. He doesn’t think they’ll go away any time soon.

Instead of focusing on those emotions, Chanyeol forces a smile. The fake quality to it eventually bleeds away, turning into a genuine jovial attitude when he loses himself in the cooking as well as Baekhyun’s presence. They joke, turning away from the kitchen and sneakily stealing kisses. It’s domestic and warm, and Chanyeol feels so happy. It’s undeniable that there’s something between them. Whether it’s a relationship or something similar to a friends-with-benefits kind of deal, he isn’t sure, but there’s definitely something.

They eat the food and Chanyeol jokily drags a finger of tomato sauce down Baekhyun’s cheek. He licks it up immediately after, just so the man can’t get angry at him. He doesn’t get angry, not at all, but Chanyeol almost wishes the other had gotten angry when he gets a spoonful of tomato dripping down his cheek.

“Oops?” Baekhyun replies with a grin.

“You’re a menace,” he rolls his eyes, unable to stop the smile from blooming on his face. “How are you the older one with the fancy house again?”

“Secret,” Baekhyun whispers, leaning over to lick at the sauce.

Chanyeol scrunches his nose. “Unhygienic.”

“Wow,” the elder’s mouth drops open in mock betrayal. “You hypocrite.”

The food gets finished and left in the sink. They don’t begin to wash the dishes, instead, moving towards the couch and flicking the TV on. They cuddle, sinking into the comfortable sofa and absently changing the channels. Eventually, Baekhyun stops on a crime drama, something he has a feeling both of them aren’t really interested in.

He’s proven right only a few minutes later when he feels a hand snake up his thigh and begin to start palming his cock. Chanyeol doesn’t say a word, eyes locked on the screen. He’s the picture perfect image of intent watching, but inwardly he’s fighting a real battle. Baekhyun is teasing with his strokes, barely brushing the area hard enough to spark a real flame in Chanyeol’s stomach. Honestly, it’s frustrating, but he forces himself not to say a word. He’s not going to lose this one.

“He’s really hot, huh.”

What? Chanyeol hazily realises that Baekhyun’s probably talking about the man on screen, but all he’s focused on right now is the hand rubbing his semi-hard cock. “Um, yeah.”

“His abs are almost as nice as yours.” A grip, fingers curling around the bulge. Chanyeol nearly whimpers.

He makes a noise, hoping it sounds like a grunt of agreement rather than a grunt of pure lust.

“Even his partner is really hot.” Fingers slip past the zip of his pants, gently teasing the band of his underwear. Just a few more inches and he’ll finally have Baekhyun’s hands on him.

“Yes…” He closes his eyes.

“So, so _gorgeous_.”

Chanyeol moans, loud, when he _finally_ feels the hand wrap around him. Hot skin on skin. He wouldn’t usually be so noisy, not normally this responsive, but he feels like he’s been thoroughly teased by Baekhyun’s motions. It’s enough to get his blood boiling and he thrusts his hips upwards, eager to feel more of the other on him.

“Please,” he says, finally, giving in. Chanyeol shucks off his pants and underwear, leaving his lower half bare and naked for Baekhyun to do as he pleases. What Chanyeol gets are two beautiful hands wrapped around him, one gripped tight around the base, the other faintly tinkling with the head. It’s almost a bit too much, the head of his cock having always been especially sensitive, and he keens away when he feels that slight uncomfortable pleasure prickling his insides. Even if he does show his discomfort, Baekhyun doesn’t shy away. In fact, he ramps up the pace, as if he enjoys making Chanyeol feel like this—driving him to the edge.

“Please,” he says again, unsure what he’s asking for. The pleasure is strange, painful and yet so good. His knees jerk around, eyelids fluttering shut. Chanyeol doesn’t know why he’s so on edge, why he’s being quickly brought to cumming point like this. He isn’t usually this fast, doesn’t usually cum this quick unless he hasn’t masturbated for weeks on end.

“What do you want, baby?” Baekhyun slows down, languidly pumping the base. Chanyeol watches with half-lidded eyes, the sight of the older man’s beautiful hands curled around him, so fucking attractive. “You’re so big, darling. So thick and long. I just want to _sit_ on you.”

God. _Fuck_.

There’s a loud noise coming from the TV, but Chanyeol doesn’t even bother to look that way. He doesn’t care about the crime drama that’s going on. He doesn’t care about the one lead actor that Baekhyun said he thought was hot. No. The only thing Chanyeol cares about right now is Baekhyun and his fucking hands gripping him like this.

“Speak baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Your mouth,” he eventually gasps out when Baekhyun squeezes a tad bit too tight. “Want your mouth.”

“That’s better.”

Chanyeol receives his wish not even a second later. Suddenly, there’s heat around him, an intense wetness coating his cock. A tongue slides up him, fingers still curled around his balls. Baekhyun keeps Chanyeol’s cock nestled in his mouth, tongue lathering the tip with attention and making the younger’s stomach _pain_. Baekhyun just loves to fucking tease him. Loves to make him keen over in overstimulation and force him to cry out. At the same time, he pulls back, teasing, not giving enough friction and heat to help get Chanyeol off.

“Hyung,” he frowns, biting his lower lip. “Stop teasing, you fucker.”

Baekhyun chuckles, blowing on the tip. “That’s not very nice.”

“You absolute _fucker_ ,” he repeats, eyebrows furrowing and knees reaching.

“You never would’ve said this to me in the past.”

“Guess I’ve gotten used to you.”

“Hm,” Baekhyun says, pumping Chanyeol, saliva making the glide slick. “Not yet,” he smirks, and then goes and takes Chanyeol whole.

He swears, loud, forcing himself not to thrust into Baekhyun’s throat. It’s hard to control himself, especially when Baekhyun slinks down all the way, just on the verge of letting Chanyeol reach his throat. “God, you—you’re so beautiful.”

Baekhyun doesn’t reply, too focused on doing his job. Too focused on doing his job well, probably. In the midst of his fucked out haze, Chanyeol thinks that Baekhyun is doing his job _very_ well. Exceptionally well. Instead, he keeps his mouth around Chanyeol, using his hands to compensate for the areas he can’t simultaneously reach. There’s a lot of wetness and friction and it creates tension in Chanyeol’s stomach, the sensation building with every continued second.

He wants to grip at Baekhyun’s hair, but instead he claws at the couch, head falling back onto the chair. There’s loud noises coming from his throat, strangely high-pitched _unfs_ that are a telling sign of his fast-approaching orgasm.

Chanyeol’s on the edge, just on the _edge_ , right about to cum—

Baekhyun pulls away, a string of saliva dangling from his lips.

“…” Chanyeol opens his mouth, but then closes it, so confused, so ruined. His… his erection.

Like the fucking minx he is, Baekhyun smirks, using the back of his palm to wipe at his mouth. He looks so proud of himself for destroying Chanyeol like this, edging him to the point of completion before ripping himself away, leaving Chanyeol as hard as a fucking rock.

“Why…” he says pitifully, closing his eyes. All he wants to do is _cum_.

“Come with me,” Baekhyun stands up, reaching a hand out. “Let’s fuck, baby.”

Oh. That’s one way to get his racing heartbeat back to life.

*~*

Chanyeol has barely enough time to appreciate the décor of Baekhyun’s master bedroom before he’s pushed on the bed. There is no love in this fuck, just pure unadulterated lust. Biting kisses, loud moans, harsh grips. He has two fingers pushed into him almost the moment he lands on the bed and the thought of Baekhyun taking him again, fucking him into Egyptian cotton bedsheets has him keening.

There’s an abundance of lube—Baekhyun seems to like it especially wet—but Chanyeol isn’t complaining. In fact, he gratefully accepts more lube, enjoying the slick slide into him, the hurried push to open him up. It doesn’t take long before he finds himself ready for something more than fingers and he hurriedly tells Baekhyun that.

The sex is brutal and fast and _God_ , Chanyeol feels like he’s dying. Baekhyun is keeping his thighs against the bed, thrusting into him with all he has. It’s borderline painful, but the pain is welcomed entirely. All he wants is to meet Baekhyun’s thrusts, edge himself towards that close—but so far—orgasm once again.

He can feel Baekhyun's shirt rubbing against his skin with every thrust, can see the sweat glisten under the now damp fabric. Chanyeol’s own shirt is stuck to him, and he wants to take it off. Except, he doesn’t really. Not when taking his shirt off means pausing this.

They change positions once, from missionary to doggy style. Chanyeol thinks he likes doggy style the best because that’s when he gets to feel Baekhyun’s hands gripping his ass, rubbing the area and slapping it.

“Baby, I’m so close.”

Chanyeol’s face is pressed against the pillow, spine curved. He knows he isn’t going to last much longer either, not when he’s already nearly cum once.

Soon, Baekhyun’s cumming, thrusts languidly slowing down. When he’s done, he flips Chanyeol over and jerks him off to completion. The tall man cums with a loud cry.

For a few moments, everything is hazy. There’s a rose-gold tint to his thoughts, feelings of warmth and satisfaction brewing inside of him. He thinks Baekhyun leaves the bed, and he reaches a hand out to stop the other. The only thing he manages to grab is the hem of Baekhyun’s shirt, pulling at it slightly. It’s then he sees something, just above the lower base of the other’s spine. Dark yet colourful, expanding much further than from what Chanyeol can see, ingrained on pale skin.

A tattoo?

Before he has time to think about it, Baekhyun is off the bed. Chanyeol’s thoughts are still hazy and warm and he forgets about the tattoo—if it was actually a tattoo and not just illusions from the light—enjoying the delicate aftercare he’s receiving.

“Mm.” Baekhyun cleans him up, drags a warm damp cloth up his torso. 

“You’re gorgeous.”

“Stop it,” Chanyeol brings his hands up to cover his face. “I’m vulnerable, you can’t say those things while I’m like this.”

Baekhyun noses up his neck, planting soft kisses under the base of Chanyeol’s ear. “It’s true, though.”

Turns out, Chanyeol does get to use the toothbrush he had brought over. He borrows a pair of sleeping pants and shirt from Baekhyun, and they cuddle in bed. Chanyeol feels so warm, so happy, wrapped around Baekhyun. This is proof that there’s definitely something between them, more than just a casual fuck. Baekhyun is letting him stay over, giving him clothes to wear while he’s here. Not only that, but Baekhyun _wants_ him to stay over. 

Chanyeol goes to sleep with a kiss to his lips and a smile on his face.

*~*

Baekhyun starts to take him out a lot. They go for dinner, dessert and sometimes, occasionally, they find themselves ending up at the man’s house, tumbling together in bed. Oftentimes, Baekhyun turns up at Chanyeol’s work. He dances for him but makes sure the other doesn’t pay as much as he used to. It feels weird accepting money from the man he’s practically dating, even if what he’s doing is his job.

They still haven’t really discussed what’s going on between them and Chanyeol’s getting antsy. Mainly because Baekhyun hasn’t alluded to, mentioned, or made any specific reference towards this ‘thing’ they have. There have been no talks of relationships, no hints of them being anything more than friends. Sure, he talks about their dates, but it’s just that. Dates. Nothing more, nothing less.

Besides this minor inconvenience, Chanyeol finds himself falling easily into this routine. He enjoys spending time with Baekhyun, having forgotten what it’s like to live his days parallel with another person. Maybe they’re dating, maybe they’re not, but what they are doing is enjoying a hell of a lot of time with each other—and currently, that’s enough for Chanyeol.

“Thanks for bringing it in.” He nods towards the man entering the convenience store, wheeling in a box of soft drinks for their fridge section.

The only thing he wishes to change is his relationship with Sehun. It’s still rocky, both of them still teetering on the lines of being unsure and guarded. They haven’t had the chance to properly talk things out and it’s straining. Not only is it a strain on their relationship but it’s also _draining_. Chanyeol finds himself aching whenever he glances at Sehun, aching whenever he realises there is tension between them. Sehun acts like he doesn’t know _how_ to act around Chanyeol, and it’s so much. Too much. They really need to talk things out.

Chanyeol just doesn’t know how.

He wants to give Sehun the benefit of the doubt. Wishes he could just treat him in the same way Chanyeol treats all the boys he knows delves in this kind of stuff. But he _can’t_ , and that’s only because Chanyeol cares so much about Sehun. Cares about what he’s doing, cares about his health. Technically, he knows that occasional use is fine—it won’t kill you, won’t hurt you long-term—but Chanyeol also knows this is _more_ than just occasional use, this is Sehun getting entrenched in the drug world, finding himself stuck in a drug syndicate.

God, he fucking cares about Sehun too much.

And so they’re awkward around each other. Chanyeol unsure how to bring the whole thing up and Sehun seeming deadset on ignoring it. It’s working so far. They respond to each other, but there’s this level of unsureness between them, almost as if they’re waiting for the other to bring it up.

The awkwardness seems to go away when they’re dancing though, and sometimes Chanyeol finds himself on-stage with Sehun. The audience seems to lap up the two tall men, throwing a lot more money than he’s used to. As time passes, his confidence only increases. He finds himself watching Jongin less, finds himself smiling when he sees Yixing put away his earnings for the night. Unsurprisingly, he knows it has something to do with Baekhyun. Baekhyun who has helped build up his confidence. Baekhyun who has told him that he’s beautiful and wonderful, that he doesn’t need to worry about comparing himself.

It’s because of Baekhyun that Chanyeol finds himself curling seductively around his pole, swaying along to the beat. The confidence seems to attract people too, and now he’s used to seeing patrons hovering around his stage, eager to throw money on him.

He’s been getting compliments from the rest of the staff too. Kyungsoo has mentioned it a few times. Kris. Jongdae. Even the other dancers.

“You’ve been doing so well lately,” he remembers Jongin saying a week ago, when they were both getting ready behind the stage. Chanyeol has been asked to come in and dance on Saturdays for the past three weeks. “Like, shit man.”

“Thanks,” Chanyeol had grinned, running a hand through his hair. “I do feel a lot more confident now.”

“It really shows. Keep up the good work, yeah?” Jongin patted his back, leaving with a smile.

It makes him happy just how supportive the rest of the boys are, that despite Chanyeol’s prior jealousy, they have always been so welcoming and kind. They are always there to help, always on the lookout for each other. In reality, it makes Chanyeol feel bad for stereotyping these boys. He knows a lot of them use drugs, and yet, it’s not like that stops them from being kind. It doesn’t stop them from helping Chanyeol out a lot. He knows he’s being unfair with Sehun. God, they really need to talk and apologise.

The jingling of the front bell rouses Chanyeol from his inner thoughts and he stands up tall when he sees Lu Han walk in.

“Good morning,” he smiles wide, nodding towards the man. It’s become routine selling Lu Han his packet of cigarettes every Thursday.

“Hi Chanyeol,” the man says before he peruses through the store. He walks through the aisles but Chanyeol knows it’s just for show. He never buys anything but his packet of cigarettes. “How are you doing?”

“I am fine, thank you.”

As expected, Lu Han arrives at the counter with nothing in his hands. He smiles at Chanyeol, cocking his head to the side and gesturing with his chin towards the cigarettes.

With a laugh, Chanyeol reaches over and grabs a pack. “Is that all?” He asks unnecessarily. He knows that is all.

“Is there anything else you can give me?”

Chanyeol purses his lips. He knows what Lu Han’s implying and it’s _strange_. There’s a teasing quality to his words, something that indicates he isn’t truly serious. But the fact that he’s saying that, sounding so much like the men Chanyeol dances for at night, it’s just… weird.

“I don’t think so,” he eventually replies, slowly.

Instead of responding, Lu Han just smirks. He takes his packet of cigarettes and sends a wave off to Chanyeol. “See you tonight.”

With a hand in the air to wave back, Chanyeol frowns. Tonight? Will Lu Han be needing more cigarettes tonight?

He shrugs it off. Whatever. Lu Han is strange.

By the end of the day, Chanyeol is tired. As much as things have been awkward with Sehun, he honestly prefers working with him. The store feels so slow, so uneventful, when he’s by himself. After a year and a half of working with Sehun, Chanyeol’s gotten used to his presence, used to absently chatting with the younger throughout the day.

To think that he has to dance tonight? God, his bones ache already. His shift isn’t very long, later in the night. When he’s forced to work on days where he also has time at the convenience store, Jongdae offers to put him later in the night, just so he can rest at home for a bit.

Baekhyun had messaged him saying that he was busy tonight, unable to come watch him, and that had left Chanyeol only _slightly_ bummed. He prefers when Baekhyun’s there, just so he can glance at the man when he’s dancing. It makes him feel powerful watching his… lover’s eyes narrow while he wraps himself around the pole.

Freshly washed and feeling significantly less tired, the club is bustling by the time Chanyeol walks in. He nods at Kyungsoo who’s guarding the back, happening a glance towards the main area. There are a few boys working the floor, Hoseok, Jongin and Minseok on stage. When he steps backstage, he sees Sehun rubbing makeup on his face.

“Hey,” Chanyeol smiles, knocking the other in the shoulder.

Sehun smiles back at him. “Hi.”

“We dancing together?”

“I think you’re up first, and then for your second run we’re dancing together.”

Chanyeol nods, sitting in the chair next to Sehun. He drums his fingers against the vanity, watching his friend apply the makeup on his face. Neither of the two say a word, staying silent as the loud bass from the club filters through the walls. It’s only when he sees Sehun missing a spot by his nose, that he intervenes.

“Here, you missed this.”

He reaches up to tap at the concealer, blending it gently into Sehun’s skin.

“Thanks.”

The atmosphere remains awkward and Chanyeol sighs. It hurts that they’re like this. Unsure, unable to flesh out what’s wrong.

“Sehun…” he starts, fidgety. Closing his mouth, he sighs again, rubbing his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

He can’t guess the response he’ll get from Sehun and so the soft little whispery, “I’m sorry too,” is entirely unexpected.

“What?” He says, blinking. “What are you sorry for?” If he remembers correctly, Chanyeol’s the one who got angry at Sehun, making things awkward between them.

“Pushing you?” Sehun says, with a shrug. “I don’t know. I know you’re just looking out for me.”

Yeah, Chanyeol is. He sighs, putting his hands together. It’s so hard trying to apologise for something he isn’t really sorry about. And for some reason, he has a feeling that’s the same for Sehun. They’re apologising but it’s not like they’re going to stop what they’re doing. Chanyeol still wants Sehun to get out of this, to find help and to find himself—and Sehun? Sehun’s probably eager to continue what he’s doing with a simple shrug and a ‘no worries’ grin on his face.  

Giving his friend a smile, he sits back in his seat. They’re going to need to talk about this properly, so they can finally see eye to eye. Right now is probably not the best time, not when Chanyeol needs to get ready for his own performance.

He rubs his fingers in the back of Sehun’s shoulders and smiles when the other gives him a comforting look. He thinks things are going to work out, and now that he knows Sehun’s also willing to fix their relationship, Chanyeol feels a _lot_ better.

“We’ll talk later, yeah?” Sehun says, gripping Chanyeol’s hand.

“Yeah, for sure.”

When he gets ready for the stage, there’s happiness inside of him, turning his insides warm. Things aren’t fully fixed yet, but he knows that they’ve passed some barriers—at the very least. Chanyeol doesn’t need to worry about Sehun anymore, not like he’s used to anyway.

He’s smiling when he goes up on stage, peach gown trailing by his calves. After such a shit and boring day, he's glad he’s managed to kind of fix things with Sehun.

Chanyeol dances, loosening his body and sliding along the pole. The moves aren’t anything special, the normal set he does whenever he’s called on stage. Now that he’s become more confident, he finds himself curling around the pole, exuding sensuality. He’s reminded of Baekhyun. Reminded of the man that has helped Chanyeol grow in his confidence.

Even though he knows Baekhyun won’t be there, Chanyeol glances in the man’s usual direction. He doesn’t expect to see anything out of the ordinary, perhaps a patron or two. And that is indeed what he sees, someone sitting near the one area Baekhyun frequents. Except, the person he sees stays in Chanyeol’s head for a moment, making him feel funny. He didn’t get the best glance, the lighting being quite poor, but he has a feeling that man seemed… familiar.

It takes him nearly a whole minute to realise who that was.

Lu Han.

Chanyeol doesn’t slip on the pole, nor does he find himself careening towards the ground. No. He’s the picture perfect image of control, swinging his arms and body around and shaking his hips in a circular motion. Inwardly though, he’s freaking out.

Is this what Lu Han had meant? When he said he was going to see Chanyeol tonight? How did he even know that Chanyeol worked here? Why is he here? What’s going on?

By the time he exits the stage, his head is awfully muddled and he nearly forgets to pick up the cash lying on the ground. He can’t help but wonder how Lu Han had found him _here_. Is this just a mere coincidence or is this something else? He never thought the other was dangerous in any way, but did Lu Han… stalk him?

No. That’s ridiculous and Chanyeol should be ashamed of himself for thinking like that. It’s just so strange. And Lu Han’s always been a bit strange.

He’s sitting backstage, counting his money when Kyungsoo comes up to him.

“Lap dance?” He asks, turning to face the other. When he gets a nod in response, he nudges Sehun in the side. “See you soon.”

With his gown on and makeup unsmudged, Chanyeol walks back out. He’s not thinking of much when Kyungsoo guides him towards the lap dance area. He’s still not thinking of much when he gets a few lazy catcalls walking by. It’s only when he’s finally reached his client that he stops and breathes.

“Oh.”

“Hi Chanyeol,” Lu Han smiles.

“H-hi,” he says, surprised. He feels like he’s been put on the spot and has no idea what to do. No idea how to react. This man isn’t like all the others he’s serviced in the past. No, this man _knows_ who he is. Knows he’s Chanyeol hiding behind the strong _Loey_ mask he keeps up. “How did—how—what?”

Lu Han laughs, patting his lap, and it’s then that Chanyeol realises he’s probably asking him to get on. It makes him frown but he does so anyway. This is his job.

“I came last week but I don’t think you saw me.”

Oh. Probably. Baekhyun had visited him all the days he worked last week and when Baekhyun comes, Chanyeol finds it hard to stare at anything—or anyone—else. “Sorry about that.”

“You don’t have to apologise,” Lu Han puts his hand on Chanyeol’s ass and the dancer ignores the urge to push it away. “Come on, dance for me.”

Startled, Chanyeol does. He pushes back his shock and surprise at Lu Han’s appearance and moves his body in the way he knows looks good. Lu Han is smiling at him, the one half-lidded smile Chanyeol’s almost come to expect from the man. It’s satisfying knowing that people are susceptible to his charms. It’s satisfying knowing that he _has_ charms.

Chanyeol rolls his hips, stretches his torso and feels Lu Han’s hands grip his skin. It’s not like dancing for Baekhyun. Dancing for other men has turned into a chore somewhere along the way. As much as he liked hearing sweet words fall from people’s lips, and as much as he is satisfied that people are affected by him, Chanyeol prefers Baekhyun. Prefers his hands running along his skin, prefers the lilt in his voice when he speaks, prefers his soft lips against his collarbone.

“Hey.” Chanyeol sits back, frowning. “No kissing.”

“Oops,” Lu Han grins, raising his hands in the air. “Sorry, no foul.”

Frown still plastered on, he continues his dance. Lu Han seems to lap everything all up, enjoying all the moves. It’s only when Chanyeol catches the other staring behind, away from the dancer, that he looks back too.

“Fuck, gotta go.” Lu Han says, and Chanyeol frowns, only catching Sehun? Sehun walking into the back room?

“What?”

Lu Han takes out his wallet and puts a couple of bills into Chanyeol’s hand. “You were great. Thanks babe.”

“What?” Chanyeol repeats, confused. He lets Lu Han get off, watching the other shrug his jacket back on. “Where are you going? There’s still more time left.”

“I gotta go,” he replies, succinctly. But then he turns and smirks at Chanyeol. “If you wanna see something, maybe check out the back of the club in about, say, five minutes?”

He then raises his eyebrows and nods towards Chanyeol, disappearing with one last, ‘bye’.

Confusion washes over Chanyeol, and he walks backstage feeling slightly bewildered. First, Lu Han showed up, and then he leaves, just like that? What did he mean about if Chanyeol wanted to see something though? What’s going on in the back of the club?

Chanyeol expects to see Sehun sitting by his dressing table, but he’s not even there. His absence makes Chanyeol frown because they’re meant to be up soon, their dance scheduled in. He waits there, by Sehun’s dresser, frowning at the thought of Lu Han, and then frowning again at Sehun’s mysterious disappearance.

Five minutes pass and still no sign of Sehun. They’re supposed to be up in ten, where the hell is he? Inwardly, he remembers what Lu Han had said, and with Sehun’s disappearance, Chanyeol finds himself somewhat intrigued. What did Lu Han mean? What’s going on out the back? Usually shady words don’t cause him to do anything but keep safe, but he’s… curious. Maybe if he just has a quick peek, he’ll see something?

And so, Chanyeol shrugs his gown back on, hesitantly walking towards their back door. He tries to think of what he could possibly see, but his mind runs blank. People fucking? Lu Han fucking? Lu Han taking drugs? What else?

Except, when he pushes the door, he doesn’t see any of that. Hell, Chanyeol doesn’t see anything at all. All he sees when he lets the door close behind him are the garbage bins and—and some blood on the floor? It takes him a few seconds to realise it’s blood, the liquid looking dark under the moonlight. It’s splattered a little on the pavement, a tiny spray coating the wall too.

Chanyeol doesn’t watch many murder shows, but he thinks something probably got punched in the face, if the placement of blood high up the wall says anything about it. There’s quite a bit of blood though, more than what Chanyeol would expect from a simple face punch. Maybe they were stabbed too?

Is this what Lu Han had meant? He’d see blood?

A scuffle from around the corner has Chanyeol turning back into the venue. He knows he should probably run back inside and forget that he ever saw blood, but there’s a strange pounding in his chest. He knows it’s his heartbeat, ramping up in pace, probably borderline tachycardic. The sight of blood has him reeling, but he’s curious, what the hell happened? Ignoring the little voice in his head that tells him _this is how people get fucking_ _killed Chanyeol_ , he lies back against the wall, trying to listen in.

He thinks he hears a few footsteps, more than just one pair of feet. Then, the sounds stop.

“… nothing... took care of him… won’t bother us…”  

Chanyeol frowns, crooking his head to try and hear better. The voice is low and unfamiliar, and he finds himself wondering what the man is talking about. Is this about the person who was, obviously, beat up? Killed? Fuck, Chanyeol doesn’t know what happened, but the words ‘took care of him’, cause a shiver to run down his spine.

There’s silence for a few seconds, a few seconds where Chanyeol thinks about going inside, until he stops dead in his tracks.

A very familiar voice speaks, clear.

“Good. He better not be seen around here again. Tell Cho I’ll kill his men next time.”

Chanyeol’s heart stops. He knows that voice, he _knows_ that voice. Doesn’t he? Isn’t that… Baekhyun? His lover? It’s loud enough to sound familiar, but soft enough for Chanyeol to be mistaken. But, it _sounds_ like Baekhyun. God, it really does sound like the man.

He wants to step out and just take a peek, a quick little look to see if he’s correct. But he forces himself to not move. He isn’t dumb. God, he doesn’t have any clue what they’re talking about. And yet, if that man is not Baekhyun, Chanyeol has a feeling, physiologically, he won’t be entering the club in the same way he exited.

The man/Baekhyun doesn’t say anything else. All Chanyeol hears is some kind of grunt, an affirming noise, and the men walk off. Chanyeol only breathes when the sound of footsteps grow faint, the soft roar of a car indicating their departure.

He slides down the wall, knees to his chest and head in his hands. What the fuck.

Chanyeol breathes deep, relentlessly running his fingers through his hair. What the fuck, what the actual fuck. He can’t even process anything right now. Surely that wasn’t Baekhyun. Surely. Chanyeol must’ve been hearing things, there’s no way that could’ve been him. Baekhyun had said he was busy tonight, that he wouldn’t be able to pop by the club. Baekhyun is also not a fucking murderer, he wouldn’t tell people that he’d kill their men next time. Right?

Surely.

It doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t make a single bit of sense. It’s terrifying to think that it could be Baekhyun, that the man he knows has a tendency to threaten others. At the same time, it’s unimaginable. It doesn’t make sense that it was Baekhyun. Baekhyun, the man he knows…

But how much _does_ he know? Chanyeol likes to think that they’ve gotten closer, that he’s started to become part of the other’s daily routine—but what else does the man do? In the periods they’re not together, what could Baekhyun be up to?

No, he shouldn’t think like that. It’s unreasonable to suddenly suspect Baekhyun out of nowhere. No normal person would suddenly accuse their lover like this. But at the same time, wasn’t this the evidence? Didn’t he have evidence? The familiar voice?

It takes a few moments for Chanyeol to realise that his hands are shaking but when he does, he holds them against his head. The pounding in his chest continues to increase and he closes his eyes shut, trying to maintain his breathing.

It’s not Baekhyun. That wasn’t Baekhyun.

He continues to repeat the words in his head, like a mantra, almost like he’s trying to convince himself. Chanyeol knows a few minutes pass, has a vague inkling that there’s supposed to be something going on right now, but he can’t even move. There’s an eerie feeling running through him, something cold turning his thoughts into shock and fear.

It’s not Baekhyun. That wasn’t Baekhyun.

Eventually, when his heart calms down and his thoughts stop yelling at him, he breathes—deep, long. It wasn’t Baekhyun, he thinks. He doesn’t need to get all freaked out thinking that Baekhyun is out there threatening people because it wasn’t Baekhyun.

Another breath.

It calms him down. Later on, he’ll think, _how fucking stupid am I to imagine Baekhyun’s voice_. There’s no way that could’ve been Baekhyun, no way the man was there. It’s these thoughts that help ground him, help him realise where he is, what he’s doing. Help him realise that he’s sitting at the back exit of the club he’s supposed to be working at.

Chanyeol doesn’t jump to his feet. Rather, he sits there for a minute longer, taking in a deep breath. Now that he’s had this breakdown, he finds himself feeling a little embarrassed by his behaviour. He can’t believe he spent so long freaking out over something that is most likely untrue. That wasn’t Baekhyun _at all_. He’s so fucking dumb.

There’s a tiredness that runs through him when he stands up, gingerly making his way towards the backstage area. He doesn’t want to dance tonight. The only thing he wants is to go home, have a nice long bath, and then hopefully catch a call with Baekhyun. So he can hear Baekhyun’s voice and think, once again, just how dumb he is.

When he walks through the backstage area, the first thing he sees is Sehun staring at his phone, a worried look on his face.

“Hey.”

“Oh my god,” Sehun punches him in the shoulder and Chanyeol pulls back, alarmed. Ouch. “Where the fuck were you? I was so scared.”

“Sorry,” Chanyeol blurts out with a shrug. “Family emergency. I gotta go home.”

Sehun looks confused, thick eyebrows crossed—but then he nods. He lets out a sigh of relief, fingers running through his hair. “Yeah, no worries. Get home safe?”

Chanyeol tries to smile. He hopes it turns out somewhat convincing.

Surprisingly, getting Jongdae to agree doesn’t take that much. The man nods as soon as Chanyeol says something about Yoora, and off the dancer goes, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He puts his usual clothes back on, not even bothering to count his earnings tonight. Honestly, Chanyeol didn’t do _shit_ —but then he remembers a very significant part of his night. Lu Han.

Lu Han.

Fuck, what was up with Lu Han? Chanyeol still doesn’t know what the man wanted him to see. Was it the blood? Was Chanyeol supposed to arrive a little earlier to see a person getting beaten up?

The unsurety makes him feel weird. For the most part, Chanyeol thinks he’s a perceptive person. Just… what the hell is up with Lu Han?

The cold Autumn night air is refreshing. Chanyeol feels like he can properly breathe for the first time tonight. He takes in a deep breath, enjoying the chill in his lungs, before he exhales. All the tension that has been plaguing him dissipate with that breath. He feels a lot lighter, much less on edge. Fuck, he can’t wait for that bath.

He spoils himself with a bath bomb, taking his time and enjoying himself. It’s surprisingly cathartic sitting in the sweet-smelling liquid. Chanyeol nearly jumps when his phone buzzes on top of a ledge, and he quickly wipes his hands on a towel to stare at the screen.

_You okay, sweetheart?_

Chanyeol bites the bottom of his lip. How did Baekhyun know something was wrong? To send him a text like that out of nowhere?

_? How’d you know?_

_Is something wrong? I messaged you_  
_because I wasn’t able to pop in_  
_today._

He deflates. That makes sense. If only he wasn’t on edge. He doesn’t want to overanalyse Baekhyun’s each and every move.

_No im fine, im fine_

_Thank you for messaging me_

_I miss you_

_Miss you too, baby_

Invariably, this message calms him down. The message along with the bath bomb helps Chanyeol take a step back. It’s stupid to act like this. If he thinks about it logically, what is the chance that _was_ Baekhyun? Probably next to nothing.

He continues to reassure himself, eventually breathing away his worries. Chanyeol can sleep easy tonight, there is nothing to worry about.

Not yet, anyway.

_Come over tomorrow?_

It takes Chanyeol less than a minute to respond.

_Of course_

*~*

Things go back to normal.

Chanyeol forces himself to not let his imaginative mind get the better of him. Instead, he meets with Baekhyun the next day and all his fears are alleviated. The meeting helps ground him, helps him realise that he was just being stupid and paranoid the night before. Baekhyun takes him out for lunch, and Chanyeol _finally_ splits the bill—he was waiting for this moment.

He receives a message from Sehun through the day, asking how he was. Chanyeol nearly responds with an ‘I’m fine?’ before he realises that he left rather abruptly last night. So, he sends a thank you, instead. Promising Sehun he’ll keep in touch.

“Hi beautiful,” Baekhyun kisses him on the lips, moving his sunglasses to rest on bronze coloured hair.

“Mm,” Chanyeol leans into the kiss, eyelids almost falling shut. Baekhyun had offered to drive him to work and he’s not one to refuse free rides, let alone free rides in a fancy as fuck car.

“Can’t stay for too long,” he sounds apologetic and Chanyeol nods, understanding. “But I’ll watch you on stage for a little.”

“I know how much you like watching me on stage,” the dancer teasers, wide grin on his face. “You’re always so horny when I finish my routine.”

Baekhyun’s driving but he still manages to look slightly offended. “Can you blame me? You’re out there… doing… that shit. It’s impossible to _not_ be affected.”

Chanyeol’s smile only grows at this. Of course he knows Baekhyun is attracted to him. He’d have to be blind to not notice this. But it’s always nice to know he’s wanted, and by Baekhyun no less. Compliments seems to have an especially potent effect when they’re said by Baekhyun. It’s odd.

Baekhyun drops him off, promising to come in soon. “I need to drop by a friend’s house, I’ll be there soon, okay?”

Chanyeol nods, jutting his head out, a silent ask for another kiss. Baekhyun’s lips curve into a fond smile, and he gives Chanyeol just that—another kiss.

When they pull back, he wishes he could stay in the car, if just for a longer kiss. There’s nothing more he wants right now than to stay in Baekhyun’s swanky vehicle and spend time kissing the man. It’s not like he doesn’t get to kiss Baekhyun often, if anything, Chanyeol thinks they spend a lot of time glued to each other—much more than he’d expect with a schedule as hectic as his. But they do. Whenever Baekhyun is free, he calls Chanyeol over and they spend time attached to the hip. And attached by other places too.

Unfortunately, he has work to do, so instead of kissing Baekhyun with almost everything he has, Chanyeol gets out of the car and shuffles through the doors. It doesn’t take long before he’s swept up in the mix of things, and he quickly goes through his regular motions. He cleans up, dabs makeup on, and then works the floor. There are a few boys working tonight and he smiles at each one of them. He passes the back door, but he forces himself to not think about what had happened the last time he was here. It’s Wednesday, a whole weekend has passed since he last stepped foot in this establishment, he doesn’t need to be reminded.

And so he isn’t reminded. He purposefully forgets about any instances of splattered blood on cracked concrete or the strangely familiar lilt in the perpetrator’s—what perpetrator?—voice.

Curling the gown around him, Chanyeol stands, ready for the stage. He’s absentmindedly running his fingers through his dark hair, catching a glimpse of his abs, when Jongdae walks up to him.

“Hey Dae,” he smiles, glad to see his friend. It’s been ages since he’s caught up with Jongdae, even if the man was originally his friend before his boss.

“Chanyeol.” He jerks his hand through the dancer’s hair, turning the neat hairstyle into a mess. Before Chanyeol can complain, Jongdae grins. “Guess what?”

Guess what? He tries to think but draws a blank. “What?”

“You’re on the mainstage.”

“Huh?”

“Main. Stage.” Jongdae repeats, knocking him in the shoulder. His smile widens. “Your confidence is a fucking hit, Loey.”

Chanyeol blinks.

“Who?”

“Fucker.” Jongdae pushes him again, but he’s laughing and Chanyeol is unendingly confused. It’s not April right? National Joke Day, perhaps? Surely, Jongdae is joking—or maybe Chanyeol’s hearing has gone to shit? He’s been working in this club for awhile and he’s told Jongdae the music is really, too loud.

“Are you serious?” Chanyeol speaks, serious.

“Of course,” Jongdae looks slightly offended that Chanyeol thinks he _could_ be joking. “I had a little chat with some of the others and they all agree you deserve this.”

Chanyeol forcefully blinks once again. Holy fuck.

“I can’t believe it…” he breathes. His eyes are open wide, mouth probably even wider. “No way?”

Jongdae looks amused, he pats Chanyeol on the back. “You’re up soon, okay? Jongin’ll help you rub some oil on.”

Jongin will? As in, Jongin is dancing but Chanyeol is still taking the mainstage? Chanyeol doesn’t under _stand_. Sure, maybe his confidence has increased and maybe that is sexy—but there’s no way that confidence has beaten pure skill. Jongin is gorgeous and flexible and is exceedingly confident too. Jongin is also a very skilled dancer. It makes no sense that Chanyeol is given the mainstage.

And yet, here they are. Chanyeol’s the one who is going to be on the mainstage while Jongin’s the one who is rubbing oil on Chanyeol’s back.

“I don’t know why Jongdae chose me.”

“It’s because you deserve it,” Jongin says, gentle. He always has this way of speaking that never fails to calm Chanyeol down. It’s so different to the sexy character Jongin plays on stage—a lot softer, more tender. “You really do, Chanyeol. I don’t know if you’ve been keeping track recently, but you’ve gone up a _lot_ in popularity. Have you seen the people always around your stage?”

He shrugs. Maybe he has noticed. Maybe.

“You’ve become so confident recently, it’s sexy. God, I’m not even a client and I get affected too,” Jongin reveals, fingers rubbing into Chanyeol’s trapezius. “You’ve always been hot, but now you have that added confidence and it’s just… I’m proud of you, Yeol.”

Chanyeol’s heart thumps. The words make him feel so warm, so incredible. To think that in the past he used to be incredibly jealous of Jongin—of his skills and of his popularity. But now, Jongin is the one telling _him_ how great he is, telling _him_ that he’s proud. Wow.

“Thank you,” he says, so, _so_ thankful. He reaches out and grabs Jongin’s hand, ignoring the slippery oil now covering his fingers.

“You’re welcome,” Jongin smiles at him. It’s a little breathtaking. “You better smash it out there.”

Chanyeol thinks about Jongdae, who’s relying on him. Chanyeol thinks about Jongin, who believes in him. And then, Chanyeol thinks about Baekhyun. Baekhyun who, unknowingly, helped Chanyeol grow.

He’s dancing with Jongin and Minseok today. For once, he’s not walking out the back doors to climb onto the stage. Instead, he’s feeling giddy when he realises all he has to do is pass the black screen. Time passes quite quickly as they wait. Jongin pats him on the back and Minseok sends him a short smile and then, like that, they’re off.

He walks through the silky covering, eyelids fluttering as he’s attacked by bright stage lights. It takes him a few seconds to orient himself, the view slightly different from the mainstage. He can see Jongin and Minseok on the edge stages, gearing themselves up. In return, Chanyeol curls his right leg around the pole, breathing deep through his nose.

There’s a flurry of nerves running through him, the feelings slightly odd and unfamiliar. He hasn’t felt nervous being on stage in such a long time, it’s slightly overwhelming. But he forces himself to not let these feelings show, eager to make a good impression on the crowd now flittering around him.

When the beat drops, Chanyeol tries to lose himself in the music. It’s the same thing he’s done for the years he’s been here. Once he has the beat running through his skin, he loosens up. It doesn’t matter if Chanyeol’s on the edge stages or here, on the mainstage, this is something he’s done for years now. It’s nothing to be afraid about.

His conviction only strengthens when he catches a quick glimpse of Baekhyun. Yeah. He can do this.

Surprisingly, the time passes quick. Chanyeol can only vaguely hear the loud whistling and the shouts of his name. He sees the money though, feels his heart speed up when he catches how much people are loving him. It’s this sight plus the hazy cheers that cause him to respond, make him want to please. So Chanyeol puts on a smirk, runs a hand down his chest and _pulls_ at his underwear.

He gets a louder response, and he wants to grin. The bass of the song is sending mini-vibrations through his skin, a rush of euphoria turning him numb.

By the time the set is over, Chanyeol’s heart feels so full. He sends one last seductive look towards the crowd before he shuffles backstage. He can’t believe he danced on the mainstage. It’s surreal. He gets pats on the back, a hug from a sweaty Jongin. There’s praise flung at him, not even a single word of criticism.

“Loey.” He hears people call. Congratulating him. Thanking him.

It seems like they all realise how big of a deal this is for Chanyeol, and they’re upping their response by a lot. Instead of sounding disingenuous, their smiles are honest, their words sincere. Chanyeol blushes, runs a hand through his hair and grins. He’s happy.

When he’s stopped receiving all the attention, he quickly makes his way out past the backstage. There’s only one person he wants to see right now, one person he wants to hug. Baekhyun is sitting in the area he has claimed as his own, and Chanyeol feels like a weight has been lifted from his chest. Immediately, he collapses onto the seat and Baekhyun grabs his hand.

“You didn’t tell me you were going to be on the mainstage.”

“I didn’t know.” Chanyeol’s eyes are shut but he’s smiling so wide. “I had no idea.”

His hand is squeezed. “You did amazing.”

Chanyeol wants to kiss him.

And so, he does. They squeeze themselves into some random dark corner and Chanyeol feels like a teenager when he leans down and grabs Baekhyun’s face. He kisses the older man with everything that he has left, feeling like a star has burst inside of him. He has so much energy and he wants Baekhyun to feel it too.

“Whoa, whoa,” Baekhyun pulls back, but Chanyeol continues to attack the side of his jaw.

“Let me suck you off,” he generously offers, pulling Baekhyun into his arms. His cock is already semi-hard and he grinds himself against the man’s leg. Usually, Baekhyun can _never_ resist that.

“God, fuck,” Baekhyun moans, allowing Chanyeol to nip at his neck. “What is with you today?”

“I’m just,” he says in between quick kisses, “so,” kiss, “fucking,” another, “energised.”

Dragging him down, Baekhyun redirects Chanyeol’s messy kisses towards the older man’s lips. The dancer lets out a sigh, drowning into the kiss. He’s just so happy, so fucking _elated_. Everything he’s done in this club for the past few years has come to this.

“I would love to stay,” Baekhyun manages to—somehow—lean back and Chanyeol pouts. “Stop. Don’t do that.” He uses his fingers to stretch the younger’s lips into a smile. A version of a smile, at least. “Yeah, I would love to stay. God I’d love to, but I gotta go.”

Vaguely, Chanyeol remembers the other saying something about needing to leave, but if anything, the words make his pout worse. He sighs, kissing Baekhyun one last time before leaning back.

“Text me tomorrow?”

Baekhyun nods.

Chanyeol’s alone soon after, gently rubbing the back of his palm against his lips and hoping he doesn’t look too flushed. He thinks most of the boys know he has something going on with Baekhyun, so it’s not like it should be embarrassing—but it is. The hoots he gets by the time he walks backstage are bearable though, and he stills feels over the moon from all the love. It makes him realise just how much he enjoys being here. As much as he complains about his job, he honestly does like it.

He still has a few more hours before he’s done for the night, but the time goes quickly. He enjoys it, enjoys the attention and the love. When he hears the name ‘Loey’ being called, instead of feeling down, Chanyeol perks up. He’s never especially liked the name Loey before, but today it makes his lips quirk into a grin, warmth running through him.

He gets a few more tips as the night continues on and by the end of it, Chanyeol is still feeling quite happy. Jongin offers to drive him back home and he gratefully accepts. They get ready, pulling on real clothes before they're off.

They don’t say much, not until they get into the car. Then, Chanyeol speaks. “I actually like being Loey. I never thought I did, but it’s… enjoyable.”

Jongin hums, turning the radio down soft. “Yeah?”

“I’ve never really minded the cat-calls and hooting, and I like it when people watch me. It makes me feel really good,” he shrugs, turning away from Jongin and looking out the window. The stars are barely visible in the midst of the city, scattered few and far between.

“I like being Kai too,” Jongin reveals, shrugging. “Helps me be someone else for awhile.”

Chanyeol thinks about Loey in a similar way, rubbing the side of his finger. He feels like Loey is some abstract character that he plays, putting on a mask and letting the seductive side guide him for awhile. But at the same time, Loey is still him. Loey still has Chanyeol’s personality, Chanyeol’s feelings. Loey is him, just a different part.

A special part.

“Hey Jongin, are you free for a bit? Would you be able to take me somewhere?”

*~*

Chanyeol removes the bandage after three hours. The man said to wait around two to four hours before taking it off. He winces when he has a shower, making sure the water spray doesn’t beat down on the area. He uses a soft towel to pat down his finger, almost in shock when he catches sight of the dark lines now covering his skin.

LOEY

His skin is still red and irritated, but the tattoo is obvious, very much visible. Right there, on his skin, Loey. Just like that.

He rubs in the ointment he was told to buy, and winces again when the area still burns. It’s practically an open wound right now, but it’s a very pretty open wound, he thinks, eyes locked on the Roman letters now staining his skin.

The process had made him tired, turning his already long day even longer, so he passes out almost as soon as his head hits the pillows.

Chanyeol can’t stop staring at the tattoo when he wakes up and gets ready for his day at the store. This is the first time he’s gone under the knife—or more, the machine—and it’s strange seeing the result on his skin. It isn’t very big and only spans the length of his index finger, but it’s there. It’s right there.

He’s stuck staring at the tattoo, gently grazing the tip of his finger, when the door bell jingles. Chanyeol stands up straight just in time for a familiar customer to walk in.

Lu Han.

But it isn’t Lu Han, not the same Lu Han he’s used to anyway. His nose looks crooked, bent out of shape, a white band plastered across the bridge. There’s bruising around his cheekbones, just under his eye. The colour is a ghastly blue-green, on the verge of turning yellowish. The bruising expands down his left eye, painting his face a mottled mix of colours.

“What happened to you?” Chanyeol breathes, somewhat alarmed. He doesn’t usually see things like this, despite living in a semi-rough neighbourhood.

All Lu Han does is smile and give a shrug. Then, he walks through the aisles, as if everything is normal.

Chanyeol bites his lip, feeling slightly overwhelmed. What the fuck _happened_ to Lu Han? If he thinks back to the last time he saw the other, well, that was only—wait.

Chanyeol blinks.

God, he nearly forgot about Lu Han at the club. With everything that’s happened recently, Lu Han has hardly been on his mind. The bruising looks to be around a few days old, in the middle of changing from a purpley-blue to a greenish-yellow.

And what did Lu Han say the last time Chanyeol had seen him? To go out the back? And when Chanyeol did, there was _blood_ on the concrete? Blood on the concrete and Lu Han looking like this. He knows he should make the connection, put two and two together and say that Lu Han was the one who was beaten up—beaten up by the man who sounded like _Baekhyun_ of all people. But it seems like Chanyeol could just be reaching.

It’s a huge coincidence that everything seems to match, but that’s just what it is, right? A coincidence?

“Pack of smokes?”

He blinks, robotically reaching behind to grab the brand Lu Han likes. When he places it on the table, he sees Lu Han staring at his hand, staring at the _Loey_ tattoo. A blush runs through him and he retracts his hand. Lu Han knows what Loey means, who Loey _is_.

“A tattoo. Following in his footsteps, huh?”

“What?” Chanyeol asks. Who?

Lu Han continues to smile, mysterious. “It needs to be bigger though. This one is a little small.”

He frowns, sick of all the cryptic answers. “What happened to your face.”

Instead of sounding put out, Lu Han just laughs. “Had a run in with some… old friends.”

“Not very good friends,” Chanyeol mumbles, scanning the packet and waiting for Lu Han to take out some cash.

It’s quiet for a few moments until Lu Han speaks. “You should tell him that he better watch out. I don’t appreciate it and Cho doesn’t either.”

“What?” Chanyeol parrots, again, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Lu Han continues to smirk, reaching for the packet. “Take off his shirt, look at his back. You’ll see.” He grabs a piece of paper by the counter and takes the pen lying next to the credit card reader. After scribbling for a bit, he gives the sheet to Chanyeol.

It’s a phone number.

“Who are you talking about?” He asks, a bit desperate. There’s a strange feeling building in his stomach, something nauseating.

“I think you know who,” Lu Han says, moving away from the counter. He raises his hand in the air, a goodbye. “Call me if you need more answers.”

Lu Han leaves and the door bell jingles.

*~*

Chanyeol doesn’t respond to Baekhyun’s text message.

Nor the second one. Nor the third.

He goes back home, clueless, feeling slightly sick. When he gets a fourth one, then he replies.

_Sorry I was busy. Can I see you?_

He tries to think back to what Lu Han had said, what Lu Han could mean. The man had always been weird, a bit offbeat. Chanyeol had simply assumed that was just who he was, never thinking much of it. But then—the vague comment to go out the back to see something, the subsequent _bruising_ , the comments about tattoos and Cho and, well, Chanyeol is confused. Tired, confused, and freaked out.

He didn’t respond to Baekhyun’s messages at first because he was slightly fearful, but he really _does_ want to see the other. See him, and kiss him, and be reassured that Lu Han is just freaky and there’s nothing to be worried about.

_I’ll drop over?_

_Yeah please come_

_See you soon, baby_

Cho. Tattoo. _I think you know who_.

Cho—Cho is such a common last name.

Tattoo. Look at his… back? Chanyeol starts to feel sick. He tries to remember the last time he saw _his_ back, but nothing comes to mind. He doesn’t even remember _ever_ seeing it. Chanyeol’s often naked when they fuck, but did _he_ take off his shirt? Ever? Pants, yes, but shirt?

A flash of a memory runs through his head, and suddenly he’s reminded of dark, colourful lines curling around a strong back. It’s something that he saw when he wasn’t completely sober, half drunk from the haze of a good orgasm, but it was striking—catching his eye.

 _I think you know who_.

Chanyeol taps his fingers along his kitchen counter, eyes flickering to the one analogue clock he has by the fridge. Baekhyun will be over soon. It feels like there’s ants crawling over his skin, running up the length of his forearm. The flurry of butterflies he has in his stomach continues to grow as the clock’s seconds hand ticks.

He waits.

He feels sick.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

There’s only one thing going through his head right now and it’s the fact that if he lets himself think about what Lu Han said, he’s only going to get more paranoid. Right now, he just needs Baekhyun to get here, to stop Chanyeol from needlessly stressing over every little thing fucking _Lu Han_ said.

A few more minutes pass until the door bell rings. Automatically, like a robot, Chanyeol shuffles towards the door. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before he opens it.

Baekhyun is as every bit beautiful as he usually is, dressed plainly in a t-shirt. He’s in casual wear today, and it’s so goddamn attractive.

“Hey Chanyeol.”

Before the tall man knows it, he’s being pulled down into a kiss. As soon as their lips touch, Chanyeol feels his worries dissipating. It’s so easy to sink back into Baekhyun’s kisses, so easy to fall back into routine. There’s warmth and happiness and _longing_ in this kiss. There’s no strange secrets, no expansive tattoos lining Baekhyun’s back. There’s no words of a Cho, no _nothing._

“Missed you.” Baekhyun’s eyes are bright when he pulls back. The sinking feeling in Chanyeol’s stomach abates.

“Missed you too,” he replies, honest.

“Oh!” Baekhyun says, surprised. He looks down at Chanyeol’s hands, eyeing the reddish skin. “This is new.”

“It is,” Chanyeol smiles. The smile eventually peters away. Baekhyun doesn’t say anything about having a tattoo. He admires the younger’s hand for a few seconds before he walks into the house. He doesn’t say he has a significant _something_ curling along his back, from the base of his spine upwards.

For a second, Chanyeol pauses. Maybe what he had seen was just a trick of the light, a simple hallucination in his blissed-out haze.

He chews the corner of his lip. He needs to find out.

They eat dinner together, making conversation. Chanyeol tries to act like nothing’s wrong, like he doesn’t feel somewhat nauseous. He’s worried the food he’s ingested is going to come back up, already churning uneasily in his stomach. Baekhyun, more perceptive than he lets on, asks what’s wrong.

“Feeling okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chanyeol shakes his head, too fast for it to be genuine. The older man continues to stare, almost as if trying to gauge what’s wrong.

Nothing’s wrong—except for the fact that Chanyeol is trying to get Baekhyun in bed just for the sake of seeing if there really is a tattoo there. Something big. Something dark. Something _significant_. Sure, while tattoos aren’t the most common, people _do_ get them. There’s a chance that it could mean nothing at all, just simple art, but there’s also a chance that it could mean something _else_. Something related to Lu Han and his injuries. Something related to a Cho.

Chanyeol starts kissing Baekhyun first. The older man is sitting on a kitchen stool and Chanyeol slips in front of him. He holds Baekhyun’s face in the palm of his hands, the Loey tattoo crossing a soft cheek. It’s slow and sweet, but also incredibly heartbreaking. Chanyeol doesn’t know what he expects to find, what he’s going to do if his horrible suspicions are correct. He likes Baekhyun, likes him so fucking much. There’s no evidence backing anything up, but fucking Lu Han has made Chanyeol so… wary. So suspicious. Too suspicious from just a few cryptic answers.

It doesn’t take long before Baekhyun is palming the younger’s erection, lips kissing down the side of Chanyeol’s neck. They stumble into the bedroom, fingers pulling at each other’s pants. Chanyeol slides a hand under Baekhyun’s shirt, paving his fingers along a smooth back. He doesn’t feel anything, no abrasions, no lesions under the skin.

But when he starts to pull at the elder’s shirt, eager to see what’s behind, Baekhyun puts a hand on his wrist.

It’s not a hard grip, instead, it’s directive. Without pausing, Baekhyun moves down to pull Chanyeol’s pants off. Usually, Chanyeol would go along with it, and that is what he does today, but the niggling suspicion that has been brooding in the back of his head only strengthens.

Why did Baekhyun stop him? Why didn’t he let him take his shirt off?

They have sex—hard, fast and a little messy. Only their pants are off, not their shirts. Chanyeol loses himself in the pleasure, in the hard rutting and slick kisses. It’s hard to think about his suspicion when Baekhyun is _loving_ him like this, taking care of him with every single stroke.

For a minute, Chanyeol wants to forget about everything he’s learned, wishes he could stay oblivious. He enjoys Baekhyun’s company, enjoys Baekhyun’s affection and attention. Chanyeol always feels so good inside whenever he sees Baekhyun, heart pounding in his chest.

On some level he knows that whatever he learns today doesn’t change the fact that Baekhyun is so good to him. And yet despite that, Chanyeol knows that things _will_ change, Baekhyun being good to him or not.

“Fuck,” Baekhyun groans, stilling. Chanyeol has already came. “Darling.”

It’s now that Chanyeol moves. “Let me clean you up.”

Baekhyun agrees, still feeling the effects. Chanyeol quickly grabs a few tissues, reaching over to clean the older man. Baekhyun’s eyes are still half shut, breathing deep. With two hands, Chanyeol carefully drags the other’s shirt, making sure to not rouse Baekhyun’s attention.

He doesn’t manage to pull the shirt up very far. It doesn’t seem to matter though because Chanyeol can see something already, curling up the base of Baekhyun’s spine. He can only see from mid-back downwards, but that’s enough. That’s enough to see something like a tail—dark blue, green and black—huge and long, extending far past what Chanyeol can see. From the size of the tail, it looks like it covers the entirety of Baekhyun’s back.

Chanyeol stops breathing.

Now that he’s seen a bit more, it’s undeniably a gang tattoo. Which gang, he isn’t sure, but there’s no doubt.

Chanyeol had his suspicions, but it’s overwhelming knowing they were _correct_. Maybe he was suspicious, but that’s all it was— _suspicion._ He didn’t expect to see anything like that. A small little tattoo at the base of Baekhyun’s spine, a tramp stamp at _worst_ , but not this. Not a ginormous dragon that screams gang.

He pulls away before Baekhyun can realise what has happened and sits at the edge of his bed. What is he going to do now? Chanyeol hasn’t seen many gang tattoos in his life, but he’s pretty sure the bigger it is, the higher up you are. Suddenly, he’s reminded of that day behind the club, where he was sure he heard Baekhyun’s voice. Something about a Cho, something about _killing_ someone.

His blood runs cold.

Fuck, _fuck_. What the fuck.

“Sweetie?”

“Hm?” Chanyeol hums, thanking God that his voice doesn't crack. The fact that he has a gang member in his bed right now, a _high up_ gang member, is making his hands shake. No matter the fact that this is Baekhyun, the man he’s insanely attached to. No, that doesn’t matter because Chanyeol obviously knows _nothing_ about Baekhyun.

“You okay? Cold? You’re shivering.” Baekhyun reaches for the blanket and pulls it so Chanyeol can get underneath it. Then, he cuddles Chanyeol, arms around the tall man’s waist. “Mm, you’re warm though.”

Chanyeol doesn’t know how he feels. There’s panic and worry running through him, but there’s also affection. Baekhyun is acting as sweet as he usually is and it’s fucking him up. He can’t think properly, he can’t _process_ anything.

“Babe? You’re so stiff.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol forcefully loosens his muscles, trying to relax. Baekhyun is still snuggling up beside him, nose rubbing into the younger’s collarbone. “Sorry.”

“Mm.”

After a few moments, Baekhyun’s breathing evens out, and it seems like he has fallen asleep. Chanyeol gently tugs the arms restricting him away, slowly moving out of the bed. His heart is pumping fast, and on some level, he feels like he might throw up.

Splashing water on his face, Chanyeol stares at his reflection. Hollow eyes, furrowed eyebrows, he looks worried and unsure, and that’s because he is. He has no clue what he’s supposed to do, what he can do now. Is he supposed to confront Baekhyun about it? Try to work things out? What kind of gang is he apart of?

Chanyeol slides down the wall, barely recognising when his butt hits the cold tiles. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say. He wishes he could’ve just stayed oblivious. God, he was so happy. Baekhyun _makes_ him so happy and that should be a reason in itself to just turn a blind eye to whatever’s going on under the surface. But at the same time, Chanyeol knows that this isn’t a trivial thing to look over, this is Baekhyun being apart of a _gang._ Baekhyun who threatens people—Chanyeol is just going to accept that the man he heard _was_ Baekhyun—keeping major secrets from the younger.

As much as he likes him, Chanyeol has to be smart about this. This is dangerous.

Fucking Lu Han.

He pauses.

Lu Han. Lu Han who seems to know something about what’s going on. Lu Han who has been giving hints to Chanyeol. Lu Han knows what’s up, and… Chanyeol has his number.

Chanyeol jumps back into the bedroom, ignoring Baekhyun’s figure happily snoozing, scrambling for his phone. He eventually manages to find it somehow under the bed. He has no texts, no missed calls, nothing.

God, he’s so thankful he had the thought to save Lu Han’s number, and it’s with shaky fingers that he sends a text.

_Can we meet?_

It doesn’t take long before he gets a response.

_Found out, huh?_

_Yeah, when?_

Chanyeol needs answers, and he needs them now.

_Tomorrow morning. I’m working.  
Come over? _

_Are you working alone?_

Chanyeol pauses. Yeah, Sehun isn’t in tomorrow.

_Yes_

_I’ll be there_

*~*

Chanyeol barely gets a wink of sleep. He comes back to bed but he can’t stop tossing and turning. There’s a dull weight that stays in his chest, heavy and uncomfortable. Despite being deep asleep, Baekhyun’s presence seems amplified. Chanyeol can’t help but notice every twitch, every snore.

In the morning, he has dark circles under his eyes, and his body feels drained from no rest. Baekhyun notices and gives them a kiss each. Chanyeol’s heart _pangs_.

“See you later?” Baekhyun curls his finger around Chanyeol’s hair, the sweetest smile turning his face so impossibly beautiful.

“Yeah,” Chanyeol swallows.

Baekhyun leaves with a kiss.

After that, Chanyeol gets ready to go to work. He cleans up—brushes his teeth, combs his hair. During it, he doesn’t think. He doesn’t think about Baekhyun nor about Lu Han. He forcefully focuses on his tasks, not even flinching when his razor cuts his face.

He wants to know what’s going on, who Baekhyun really is. It feels wrong that he’s going to Lu Han, that he’s not trusting Baekhyun enough to go to him instead. Chanyeol _wants_ to trust Baekhyun, he really does—but he’s confused now. He doesn’t know what to do.

When he gets to work, Chanyeol, again, has to force himself to focus. He finds himself drifting off, worriedly thinking about the _who’s_ and the _how’s_.

By the time Lu Han arrives, Chanyeol has nearly chewed off all his fingernails. The reason why he’s so stressed is because of how much he truly likes Baekhyun. He needs the truth.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” Chanyeol replies, dryly. He runs a hand through his hair, feeling the strands flop back onto his forehead. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

Lu Han hums, leaning by the counter. “You saw the tattoo?”

A dark and intricate tail pops up in his head. “Yeah.”

“You know what that is?”

“No.”

Lu Han hums again, his eyes move from the counter to Chanyeol. “You do drugs?”

“What?” Chanyeol responds, confused. “No, of course not.”

Lu Han shrugs. “You work at a strip club.”

Chanyeol wants to feel offended, but he doesn’t. “Why do you ask?”

Instead of responding, Lu Han just smiles.

“Can you fucking stop with this cryptic response bullshit?” He says, sufficiently annoyed. Normally, he’s fine with Lu Han and his meddling, he doesn’t care so much, but it’s different today. Chanyeol wants to know what is going on.

Surprisingly, Lu Han laughs. He’s eerily good looking, in a way that Chanyeol wouldn’t usually expect. If only he wasn’t such a creepy—and annoying—bastard. “You’re funny, I just wanted to build up the suspense.”

“What suspense? This is my _life_ ,” he pleads, annoyed but also _yearning_. He just wants to know what’s going on. “Can you give me straight answers for once. Who is Baekhyun?”

Lu Han seems to soften and he stands up tall, serious. “You want a straight answer?”

“Yes!” Chanyeol nearly yells, chewing the corner of his lip. “Yes, I do.”

“Your special friend, Baekhyun, is one of the heads of the Ssangyong Pa. He overlooks the drug sector.”

“Ssangyong Pa…” Chanyeol whispers, blood running cold. His fingers feel like they’ve turned into ice blocks.

“His father used to be one of the heads but it was passed down to the current Byun around… maybe 10 years ago now?” Lu Han continues, eyes boring holes into Chanyeol. “They circulate most of the shit in Seoul and Gyeongsang province, Busan in particular.”

Gyeongsang province… Is that why Baekhyun had affairs in Ulsan?

“The Byuns deal with drugs mostly, that’s why I asked if you were a user.”

Chanyeol’s face remains stoic. He stays quiet, unsure what to say. There’s a strange chill running through him. After seeing the tattoo the night before, he had already known that Baekhyun was connected to a gang in some form or another, and it’s only because of that, that Chanyeol isn’t floored right now. The suspicion he had turned out to be correct, and _real_.

“No,” he eventually says, staring at his fingers. He looks at the Loey tattoo now marking his skin. “I’m not a user.”

Lu Han hums again, moving forward and resting his chin on the palm of his hand. “Well, that’s it mostly. You wanted a straight answer.”

Maybe Chanyeol had said he wanted a straight answer, but right now, he feels like maybe he didn’t truly want one at all. Currently, he feels strangely calm, but he knows as soon as he gets back home, he’s going to break.

“Why did you tell me this?” He asks, eventually, flicking his eyes towards Lu Han. “Why were you giving me all these hints?”

“Honestly?” Lu Han prompts, and Chanyeol nods. “Honestly I was meant to kill you.”

“W-what?” Chanyeol’s voice breaks. What the _fuck_. He reels back away from the counter.

“Hey, hey, hey,” the other puts his hands out, the universal sign of surrender. “I’m not going to. Not anymore. I followed you around, did some recon, found out that you’re not such a bad guy after all.”

Followed him? “I-I, what. What the fuck. Why were you going to kill me?”

Lu Han’s eyes harden. “You should ask your beloved _Baekhyun_ about that.” He clicks his tongue. “I was ordered to, but, I managed to convince them you were no threat.”

“Convince _who_?” Chanyeol feels like he’s begging, feels like he’s pleading. He doesn’t understand why Lu Han would be ordered to kill him. What did he _do?_ Sure, he works at a mostly illegal strip club, but surely that doesn’t warrant being fucking slaughtered.

“My boss. It would have been easy though, despite the amount of security Byun has tailing your every move. The fact that I come in here every Thursday?” He waves his hands around in the air. “A fucking joke. I don’t know why they thought we wouldn’t figure out you worked here but, well, go figure.”

“Tailing me? There’s people following me?” Almost as if by instinct, Chanyeol looks through the glass windows to see if there’s any suspicious looking figures around.

None. Nothing.

“I’ve never seen anyone,” he says. The only person he ever remembers was that Suho man back when they went to Ulsan, but after Chanyeol had left the graveyard, Suho was gone, replaced with Baekhyun.

Lu Han cocks his head to the side, whistling low. “Oh boy, you had no idea huh? _At all times_. I’m not joking. Wherever you went, there were people there, tailing you, always watching.”

“But I never saw _anyone_ ,” he stresses. It doesn’t make sense to think that he never saw even one person.

“That’s because they’re good at what they do,” the older mans shrugs. “Besides, of course you saw them. Your biggest bodyguard of them all was with you, like, twenty-four seven?”

“No way,” Chanyeol’s eyebrows furrow, the tips of his mouth turning downwards. “Never.”

Lu Han tsks. “Don’t you realise? Your friend who runs this store with you? Who suddenly wanted a job at your strip club? Didn’t he save you one time? You know him now?”

“W-what?” Chanyeol croaks out, suddenly feeling small.

The older man looks slightly sympathetic. “Your friend,” he says softer. “Sehun?”

*~*

Chanyeol doesn’t know why the revelation of Sehun also being apart of a gang shocks him more than Baekhyun. He thinks it’s because Lu Han has basically been priming him for this—he’s had time to somewhat reconcile the fact that Baekhyun was not who he said he was.

But _Sehun_?

Sehun, his _friend_. He had no clue, never even thought that Sehun would have some kind of hidden agenda. There was a brief period in time where Chanyeol had thought maybe Sehun was apart of some drug syndicate, and that’s why he was dealing, but those thoughts had disappeared almost as soon as they formulated. To him, it was silly to even think that Sehun could be apart of anything like that.

But turns out he was. Turns out he _is_. He’s currently in the fucking Ssangyong Pa. Currently in the fucking Ssangyong Pa where Baekhyun is the head of the drug sector. All Sehun has been is Chanyeol’s bodyguard, someone to look after him.

He’s been thinking about this the whole day, ever since Lu Han had left. Sure, he understands that Baekhyun is a drug lord and Sehun’s some kind of bodyguard, but there’s one part he doesn’t get. Sehun had started working with Chanyeol two years ago, quite a significant period before Baekhyun had come into the picture.

Why?

Why would Sehun need to look after him then?

It doesn’t make any sense to him. He can’t figure this part out at all.

When Chanyeol comes back home, he finds himself calling Jongdae up. It’s with a heavy heart that he tells him he’s quitting and that he really enjoyed all the time at the club. Jongdae asks him why and what had happened, but the only thing Chanyeol says is that he wants to find other work. Doesn’t want to be a stripper forever.

After this Chanyeol calls up the owner of the convenience store. He says he’s sorry that he didn’t give two weeks notice but he’s quitting. Right now.

He feels oddly empty when he hangs up the line, knowing that he has nothing left for him. He just quit the two jobs he has been working for the past few years, ever since his parents had passed away. Ever since Baekhyun had started coming to Chen’s however, he’s been saving more and more money. For the time being, his savings are not under any threat, but he’ll need to find something else soon.

He wonders when Baekhyun will find out that he’s quit his jobs. If what Lu Han said was true, Chanyeol probably has spy cameras placed in his house or something. He rolls his eyes. Okay, he’s probably being a bit dramatic, but Lu Han _did_ say people tailed him, right? Bodyguards of some sort?

Freaky. Fucking freaky.

His phone buzzes.

_Hi darling, everything okay?_

Chanyeol feels like rolling his eyes again. Did Baekhyun find out? Or is he just simply asking? It’s a nice message though and it annoys him that despite everything he’s found out about the other man, his heart still warms happily in his chest.

This is the hardest part of it all. He knows that despite the fear, despite the confusion, despite wanting to get the fuck _away_ from everything, he still has feelings for Baekhyun.

And yet Chanyeol can’t just go back to him, not like this anyway. Not when Baekhyun is the head of a drug syndicate, willingly supplying people with poison. It doesn’t seem like Baekhyun has a guilty conscience either, not when his bank account is being heavily compensated as a result. It makes sense now that he knows about the other’s job—just how rich Baekhyun is. He’s a fucking King in the drug circles.

Chanyeol can’t do that. Not when Baekhyun’s life _revolves_ around drugs, only thrives because of the downfall of others.

No.

So, he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t say a word to Baekhyun’s text. Or the next. Or the next. He stays at home, eyes locked on the TV. For the most part, he thinks he’s getting through things well. He feels like he should be on the floor, faint and pale because of just how fucking _crazy_ this whole situation is.

But he isn’t.

He’s surprisingly calm. Neutral.

When it’s late at night, Chanyeol gets a message from Sehun.

_Are you okay man?_

Is Sehun only sending this because Chanyeol’s not responding to Baekhyun’s text? Is that what Sehun is, Baekhyun’s lapdog?

Chanyeol deletes the message.

He feels slightly bad about it, and on some level, he wishes he could speak with them. Talk to Baekhyun about everything, to gain insight into what the fuck is going on. But now that Chanyeol knows just who Baekhyun is… God, he’s honestly fucking terrified. It’s terrifying to know that he’s been dancing for the head of one of Seoul’s more notorious gangs. He’s heard horror stories of how ruthless they are, how _cruel_. And despite Baekhyun’s beautiful attitude, Chanyeol thinks he’s seen it. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget that cold voice in the dingy back area of the club.

They have to be cruel—there’s no other way for them to survive. Baekhyun’s probably ordered a number of executions and it makes Chanyeol feel _sick_. It’s hard to reconcile that the man who worships him on a regular basis could do _other_ things in his spare time.

It’s more than just Chanyeol disliking drugs. It’s so much fucking more than that. This is Baekhyun running an underground empire that consists of drugs and ends with people dead in the streets because of heroin overdose. Baekhyun is _facilitating_ that, _allowing it to happen_.

No.

Chanyeol can’t do it. Someone else could probably do it, could probably be with Baekhyun and have no troubles with what the man does—but not Chanyeol.

That’s his decision.

And yet with every message, with every word that becomes more pleading as the texts go on, Chanyeol’s heart _aches_. His mind has made up that he doesn’t want anything to do with Baekhyun, but when he’s sent sweet words telling him to call Baekhyun back because the man is getting increasingly worried, Chanyeol _wants_ to give in.

_Baby, everything okay?_

_You’re not responding to me_

_Sweetie, you’re not at the club. Don’t you  
always work Fridays now?_

_Chanyeol. Is everything okay?_

With a heavy heart, he turns off his phone.

*~*

It hurts more than expected.

Chanyeol finds it hard to cut off all contact with Baekhyun. Their relationship has grown so much. From the beginning where Chanyeol found it awkward to really speak to the man, to what they were just a few days ago.

His heart pangs in his chest when he thinks about the man, rubbing at the tattoo he has marring his skin, knowing that he can’t say a word. Baekhyun’s texts have slowed down in intensity, but the ones he still gets are filled with longing. Pleading.

_Please message me back_

Chanyeol closes his eyes.

He hasn’t messaged Sehun either, not since he found out the truth. In the interim, he’s tried looking for work. Now that he doesn’t have the job at the club, he’s found some other night work. There’s a club in the city that’s looking for a bartender. Chanyeol doesn’t have any mixology skills, and he’s reminded of Kris. God, he misses the club too. To think that one day he’d be tattooing the word Loey on his skin and then quitting his job, the next. It’s fucked.

Chanyeol’s fucked.

He’s so fucked, he’s so ruined and in so much pain, and he’s hardly getting any sleep at night. Not when all he’s thinking about is Baekhyun’s messages, pinging through his phone and asking him where he is. He knows the man has probably gotten one of his Private Investigators or whatever shit he has to find out where Chanyeol is—but the messages are still haunting. He wishes he could respond, because he wants to. God, he wants to hear Baekhyun’s voice.

He can’t though. He fucking can’t.

The days feel especially long now that Chanyeol’s jobless. He looks for work but it isn’t easy. He’s surprised that Baekhyun hasn’t knocked on his door yet, but he feels like confrontation is inevitable—there are fifteen read messages on Chanyeol’s phone after all.

During the nights, he gets antsy. In the past he had never felt like he especially loved his job. That’s all it was, a job. He never expected to miss it, and miss it to this degree. Now though, Chanyeol finds himself rubbing longingly at his tattoo. He doesn’t just miss the praise and affection, but he also misses the boys—Jongin, Yixing, Kyungsoo, Kris, Minseok… Sehun.

Baekhyun.

He misses Baekhyun a lot.

Almost a week after Chanyeol cut contact, and in the middle of his hunt for work, he gets a message.

_You found out, huh_

It’s from Baekhyun.

The words make him click his tongue in his mouth, staring cluelessly at the screen. Is he really referring to what Chanyeol thinks he’s talking about? Isn’t that really dangerous? What is Baekhyun _doing_?

Plus—hasn’t the man found another rent boy anyway?

It makes him feel a bit sick at the thought that he was just another plaything for the man. It’s not like Baekhyun had ever treated him poorly, but what else was the man doing? He never let on that he wanted them to be in a proper relationship, nor had the intention of revealing his fucking _back_ during sex.

_Can we speak? Please?_

Chanyeol sits down, tapping his fingers against his forearm. Inwardly, he wants to say yes. All he wants is to hear Baekhyun’s voice and feel the man’s palms against his skin. Inwardly? Inwardly, Chanyeol wants it all.

But when he thinks about it rationally, when he thinks about it _logically_ , he knows he shouldn’t. Baekhyun isn’t just some jilted lover, Baekhyun is a _gang_ leader.

_Please. Just let me explain._

And then, a little later.

_I miss you_

With a pained sigh, Chanyeol continues his job search.

*~*

Chanyeol doesn’t find closure.

During the nights, he sits and looks through his phone. They didn’t take many photos, but there are still a few. A picture of them taken at a fancy restaurant. Eating skewers together. A selfie in bed.

He knows that he shouldn’t be looking through these photos, should be _deleting_ them instead, but Chanyeol can’t help it. His heart rebels against his mind, whispering things to him, telling him Baekhyun had never once hurt him in any way possible. If anything, Baekhyun was the best lover he thinks he’s ever had—sweet, attentive, always affectionate.

His heart ignores the fact that Baekhyun could be someone cold and cruel under the surface. Instead, it pushes him to hover over the contact icon on his phone.

He waits. And waits.

Baekhyun hasn’t messaged him since that last _I miss you_ message. It’s probably for the best but Chanyeol waits some more. Hoping.

He realises that it’s stupid because _he’s_ the one who didn’t message Baekhyun back, who hasn’t messaged Baekhyun ever since the ordeal started. And yet, here Chanyeol is, desperately clinging onto his phone, forgetting his morals, forgetting his priorities, forgetting his _parents_.

His fingers continue to hover above the screen, a mere inch away from pressing the call button. All he wants is to hear Baekhyun’s voice. It feels like it’s been so long since the last time he heard the man’s voice and he’s getting desperate. It’s come to a point where even the normal deterrents keeping him away i.e. Baekhyun being apart of a goddamn drug syndicate, aren’t enough to stop him. He just wants to hear Baekhyun’s voice, get some closure—that’s all.

He’s not nearly as surprised as he pretends to act, eyes dropping wide, when he ‘accidentally’ clicks the call button. Chanyeol’s heart is in his throat during the first few rings. He leans against his kitchen counter, breath stilted and waiting for the other to pick up.

_Ring. Ring. Rin—_

“Hello?”

Chanyeol’s butt slides down the slippery surface, fingers gripping his phone. His heart jolts in his chest, beating a thousand beats per second—at the very least, it feels like his heart is pounding that fast, bringing Chanyeol closer and closer to a sudden cardiac arrest.

“…Hi,” he says, a bit belatedly.

There is silence for a moment. “…Chanyeol?”

“It’s me,” he responds, clearing his throat. “Baekhyun. Um, hyung… hi.”

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun breathes into the phone. “You called.”

Ignoring the pounding of his heart, Chanyeol nods before realising the other can’t see it. “Yeah,” he says instead, wishing he had a phone cord to curl his fingers through. It’s fucking debilitating hearing Baekhyun like this, again, after a period of complete silence. “I did.”

“How are you?” Baekhyun asks, sounding hesitant. It’s strange to hear him like this, so used to the confident man strolling through Chen’s. It’s even stranger when he thinks about how Baekhyun’s a gang leader. Why does he sound like this to _Chanyeol_?

“I’m… okay,” he says, thinking about his current situation. He’s jobless and friendless, it’s not really the best. “I’m fine.”

“That’s… that’s great to hear.”

“Yeah…” Chanyeol bites his lip. He’s surprised that Baekhyun isn’t angry at him for not responding to those text messages. He sent so many and Chanyeol just ignored them _all_. If anything, Baekhyun sounds so relieved that the younger is calling him. “Hey… I’m sorry for not responding to your messages. I was… really overwhelmed, I couldn’t think straight.”

He still can’t think straight. Chanyeol doesn’t know if he would’ve called Baekhyun if he was thinking straight.

“No, I understand,” the older man sighs through the line. “You found out.”

“Were you planning on hiding it from me forever?”

Silence. “Can we do this in person? Let me explain everything?”

Chanyeol spends a few seconds thinking it through. Seeing Baekhyun in real life? God, he doesn’t know what he’ll _do_.

But, he responds. Tentatively. “Okay.”

They make plans for afternoon tea. Baekhyun offers to pick him up but Chanyeol refuses. He thinks it’ll feel a bit too date-like if he's picked up.

When he presses the end-call button after practically _whispering_ some heartfelt—too heartfelt—goodbyes, he relaxes. That was the most awkward conversation he thinks he’s ever had with Baekhyun. The most painful, too. The fact that it was stilted and awkward like this makes him feel like shit.

He spends the rest of the day mentally gearing himself up to face Baekhyun again. Chanyeol eats lunch slowly and spends an exorbitant amount of time combing his hair away from his face. The clothes he chooses are semi-casual, complimenting his figure. As soon as the clock ticks two forty-five, he leaves the house.

Chanyeol is the first to arrive at the coffee shop and he orders something sweet, nervously sitting down. He taps his fingers against the wooden table, crooking his neck to look around. Baekhyun hasn’t arrived yet.

His coffee comes, and he takes a sip. Unfortunately—or maybe fortunately—he doesn’t have much time for introspection, Baekhyun arrives shortly after.

“Hey,” the elder sits down.

Chanyeol takes in a deep breath. It was hard talking to Baekhyun on the phone, seeing him in person is even worse. He doesn’t know _why_ it’s so hard, why he’s so thoroughly affected by Baekhyun of all people. And yet, he is. The man is wearing a white dress shirt and dark slacks. His bronze hair is perfectly tousled, face as beautiful as ever. He’s so gorgeous, it’s almost painful.

“Hi,” he blinks in response, trying to absorb everything Baekhyun. The rush of feelings he’s been keeping under wraps suddenly comes to surface. The pain he has been trying to hide and deal with on his own terms, now feel like fresh wounds. Chanyeol is reminded of the shock and horror he experienced along with the sharp sting of betrayal.

“It’s so good to see you,” Baekhyun reaches an arm out, but then pulls it back. For a second it looked like he wanted to, perhaps, hold Chanyeol’s hand.

Chanyeol forces himself to not be affected by the other’s words. He can’t believe that for a brief period of time, he was _scared_ of Baekhyun. That after finding out about the other’s true profession, he thought maybe the Baekhyun he knew wasn’t the real one. Maybe, this Baekhyun still isn’t the real one. At the very least, he’s still the same Baekhyun that _Chanyeol_ knows, and it doesn’t seem like the man he knew is disappearing any time soon.

“I saw your tattoo.” Chanyeol reveals, looking down into his drink. He swirls his spoon throughout his drink. “It’s big.”

Baekhyun sighs, nodding. “I’m guessing you found out what it refers to?”

“Were you the one who attacked Lu Han that one day?” He asks, instead of replying, eager to know the answer. This has been bugging him the most.

“Who?” Baekhyun’s eyebrows furrow, confused.

“Lu Han?” Chanyeol tries again, similarly confused. “He was at Chen’s, um, on a Thursday?” Baekhyun still looks confused. “You weren’t with me that night, but he was attacked by someone. At the back of the club. Punched in the face?”

Baekhyun’s eyes seem to light up in recognition, and then they harden considerably. “Fucking Cho,” he whispers under his breath, barely loud enough for Chanyeol to hear. “You know the guy?” He says, much louder this time. Suddenly, all joviality disappears in an instant, replaced by a cold mask.

It shocks Chanyeol, unused to this side of Baekhyun.

“A little?” He tries a shrug, rubbing the Loey tattoo on his finger. “He used to visit the convenience store once a week.”

“What?” Baekhyun sounds shocked, eyes blinking. He sits forward. “He _visited_ you at the store?”

“Yeah, once a week? Every Thursday for a pack of cigarettes?” He nods, rubbing the tattoo a little harder. “Sehun doesn’t work on Thursdays,” he explains. Baekhyun doesn’t move an inch. “Yeah, I know about Sehun too,” he adds.

“How?” Baekhyun’s face is heavily guarded, emotionless.

“Lu Han told me.”

“That _bastard_ told you?” The complete surprise and anger in his voice shocks Chanyeol. “What else did he tell you?” Baekhyun sits in further, voice turning gruff.

“What?” He says, overwhelmed. Chanyeol doesn’t think he’s _ever_ seen Baekhyun act like this. “Nothing…” he shakes his head. “Really!” He tries again when the elder doesn’t look convinced. “He just told me you were—are the head of the, um, the…” breathing deep through his nose, Chanyeol whispers. “The Ssangyong Pa.”

Baekhyun’s face doesn’t change. “Is that all?”

“Yes,” Chanyeol nods, heavy. He leans back in his chair, cradling his coffee against his chest. “Fuck Baekhyun,” he shakes his head, a lump in his throat. “You’re scaring me.”

Out of everything, it’s this that causes Baekhyun to calm down—to change. His expressions softens, the harsh lines from his face disappearing. Soon, he’s back to the Baekhyun, Chanyeol knows and is used to.

“I’m sorry,” the elder apologises.

“Is this gang leader Baekhyun?” Chanyeol tries to joke but the words, instead, leave a bad taste in his mouth. The older man doesn’t respond.

“I’m sorry Chanyeol,” he says, again. Baekhyun takes a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t expect us to get back together, not after everything, but I want to apologise. Things are dealt with a bit… differently in my world.” He says the words ‘my world’ like they’re two completely different species. From two completely different planets. “This… Lu Han isn’t a friend of mine. I was shocked to hear he had been contacting you.”

“Because you have people tailing me at all times, yeah?”

Baekhyun doesn’t deny it.

Chanyeol sighs. At the same time, he feels a bit saddened by Baekhyun’s words. Their ‘break up’ (even if they weren’t really together) feels rather final now that Baekhyun has said he doesn’t expect them to get back together. On some level, Chanyeol wishes Baekhyun had fought for him a bit more, although he realises that he probably lost all hope of that happening when he never replied to any of the other’s messages.

“He also told me that…” he looks around, checking to see if anyone’s listening. “He was ordered to kill me.”

Baekhyun’s expression hardens again, eyes turning steely. “Fucking bastard,” he drops his gaze, whispering under his breath. “Chanyeol,” he says seriously, no-nonsense. “I won’t let him hurt you.”

The confession is slightly overwhelming. “What? No—no, I’m not worried about that.” He shakes his head a few times, a laugh bubbling in his throat. “He said he wasn’t going to kill me anymore, I was just. I asked him why? And he said that I should ask you instead.”

Baekhyun is quiet for a few moments before he stands up and gestures with his hand. “Come. Let’s go for a walk.”

*~*

The breeze is chilly and Chanyeol pulls his coat around himself, ignoring the icy blast. Baekhyun is walking next to him, quiet, contemplative expression painting his face. The height different between them never fails to shake Chanyeol. Baekhyun is undoubtedly confident and strong, dominating in a way that Chanyeol doesn’t think he’ll ever be. And yet here, Chanyeol towers over him, nearly a whole head taller.

He’s surprised how agreeable this conversation has gone so far. From how hurt Chanyeol was, he was expecting to break down in front of Baekhyun on the spot. The only reason why he thinks he hasn’t—yet—is because he realises that what he's feeling right now, isn’t really the older man’s fault. Maybe he was hiding things, but… what else could he have done?

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” Baekhyun begins with a sigh. The wind whistles eerily, like a ghost, matching Chanyeol’s feelings.

“Go ahead,” he prompts, with a short smile. It still doesn’t make any sense to him why a person like Lu Han would get _orders_ to kill him. As far as he knows, Chanyeol hasn’t done anything majorly wrong. He’s just a stripper— _was_ just a stripper—who has dead parents and works two jobs.

The older man stops walking and Chanyeol turns to face him. There’s a strange expression on the other’s face, something weirdly _guilty_ looking and the younger frowns. How can Baekhyun suddenly feel even more guilty?

“Your parents didn’t die in a car crash.”

Chanyeol blinks.

“What?” He barks out, stunned. His parents? Why is Baekhyun talking about his _parents_? “What are you talking about?” He says, the words coming out fast.

“Your father was a high-ranking member of the Ssangyong Pa for at least fifteen years,” Baekhyun speaks the words slowly, resigned. “He worked under my father back when he was alive.”

“No,” Chanyeol shakes his head, over and over again. “No, you’re lying.”

“Chanyeol…”

“You’re lying.” He stresses, panic building in his throat. “Why are you fucking _lying again_?”

The Ssangyong Pa? His fucking _father_? No way. That’s impossible. His loving father, a fucking _gang_ member?

“He died in a car crash. The man was on drugs.” Chanyeol repeats, voice dull, remembering what the coroner had said. “The autopsy results said so. Car crash. Death on impact.”  

“We tipped the coroner,” Baekhyun shrugs, eyebrows furrowing. “We couldn’t let the truth get out.”

“What was the truth then?” Chanyeol breathes, shaking his head. He still can’t believe it. It’s impossible. No way. Why does Baekhyun have to lie some-fucking-more?

“He and your mother were shot down by that guy’s gang. That _Lu Han_ ’s gang.”

Lu Han’s gang. His parents were killed by a fucking gang because they were in a gang. It didn’t have anything to do with a guy on drugs, crashing into them one late Thursday night. No, they were apart of a gang and they were _murdered_.

Chanyeol’s heart is pounding in his chest, his breathing exceedingly rapid. He feels like he can’t breathe, like the words he’s meant to say are lodged deep down in his throat, unable to get out. What is Baekhyun _saying_? It doesn’t make sense to Chanyeol.

Nothing makes sense.

“It’s… my fault though,” Baekhyun reveals, dropping his head.

“What?” Chanyeol is still shaking his head.

“We had a mole in our gang, trying to steal our shipment. I got your father to take care of him.”

Take care of him. His father murdered people. His father was a goddamn _murderer_. “And they… they decided to, what? Get payback?”

As soon as he gets the words out, he chokes on a sob. He doesn’t understand, his brain can’t process what Baekhyun is saying. It’s so fucking unbelievable to think that his father could do something like this.

“Chanyeol.”

A hand is placed on his arm, warm and comforting. Baekhyun doesn’t move further, doesn’t reach an arm out and hug him. It’s enough though, enough for Chanyeol to know that someone is there—even if it is Baekhyun.

His head is drooping, hanging down, and he stares at the cracks in the concrete, listening to Baekhyun continue speaking and feeling the fingers around his arm grip tighter.

“I felt so fucking guilty as soon as I heard the news,” Baekhyun’s voice is higher pitched, a little desperate sounding, but Chanyeol doesn’t raise his head. “We’re not… we don’t kill people. Not in our sector anyway. We deal with trafficking and supplying but that’s all. No one dies.”

“But my parents did anyway.”

“Your mother was innocent.” The fingers grip even tighter around Chanyeol’s bicep, almost bruising. “They had no right to kill her.”

He doesn’t know why but these words seem to hurt even more. It’s been years since their death and years since Chanyeol thought he had gotten over everything.

But now? Hearing this?

The wounds feel as fresh as they were the day Yoora had rung him up, a choked sob in her voice.

“The first time I ever saw you was the day of their funeral.” 

“What?” He finally drags his head back up, a tick in his eyebrow. Baekhyun had seen him before? “You were there?”

It’s not like Chanyeol remembers much from the funeral, too devastated to think straight. He hardly remembers the people shaking his hands in condolence, let alone those who sat in the pews towards the back.

Baekhyun nods, hand still gripping Chanyeol’s bicep. He looks away for a moment. “I felt so guilty knowing that they died because of me, because of my overhastiness. I was reckless and angry. And they died because of it.”

The wind picks up, blowing through the trees. Chanyeol pulls his coat further around his body despite not really feeling the cold anymore. Inside, he feels numb.

“That’s when I started looking out for you. Making sure you were okay.”

“Then?” Chanyeol says, in surprise. Back then? It’s been… years.  

“Yeah, back then. I wanted to make sure they wouldn’t target you.”

The fact that he’s been stalked for years is… creepy. That he’s had men following him around without him knowing is even worse. To think that Baekhyun has been watching his every move, watching him go from the club to the convenience store and then act like he had no clue who Chanyeol was? God.

God.

“That’s… that’s really…” Chanyeol shakes his head. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“I just wanted to make sure that you were okay,” Baekhyun tries to explain, voice turning a little soft, a little pleading. “I never meant to…”

“Never meant to what?” He asks, trying to somehow justify Baekhyun’s actions to himself. He can’t though. It makes him feel weird inside, that Baekhyun had known who he was this whole time. Sure, Lu Han had told him that he had men following him—but for three years? Two years before Chanyeol had even known Baekhyun _existed_?

“I never meant to fall in love.”

Fuck.

“What?” Chanyeol’s voice _breaks_. He thinks he’s had enough surprises today.

Baekhyun removes his hand, the expression on his face turning hopelessly guilty. “It sounds so fucking bad but I learned a lot about you. And it just… it just happened.”

“You fell in love with me… before we even met?” Chanyeol knows his voice sounds ridiculous, high-pitched and squeaky. It’s just shocking to hear that Baekhyun had stalked him and fell in love with him as a result. He knows it’s creepy and weird, and there are warning bells going off in his head telling him to run away as fast as he can…

And yet…

Chanyeol’s chest feels warm. Soft. God, he’s fucking _crazy_.

“I’m sorry, I’m… it sounds terrible—and it is. I know how this must sound, but that’s what happened.”

“Is that why you were like that at the club. Always so… gentle?” Chanyeol realises, saying the words slowly. Baekhyun had known him, had fallen in _love_ with him. Baekhyun was—apparently—in love with him since Chanyeol’s first lap dance for the man. He can still remember the way the other had lavishly told him how good he was, sounding so fond and genuine. It makes sense now, why he’s always been so sincere.

“Yeah.”

“Oh…” Chanyeol deflates, ignoring the soft feelings inside of him. His heart is beating—warm and strong, whispering things to him. He’s ignoring the feelings of his heart, ignoring the words that say _me too_. “I… I’m just. Can I have time to think about everything?”

“Think about everything?” Baekhyun asks, blinking. “You want to meet again?”

“Um…” Chanyeol spends a second, contemplating everything he’s learned today. “Yeah. I just… learned a lot. I need time to think over everything. I’ll get back to you.”

“Of course,” the elder nods, a warm smile on his face. Chanyeol ignores the soft feelings inside of him. “Take all the time you need.”

They part with a simple goodbye—no hugs, no handshakes, and definitely no kisses. It’s painful and sad, like this is truly the end. The weather is cold enough to get Chanyeol running back to his apartment, head in the clouds.

The things he _learnt_ today. What he found out. It’s just… too much. The first thing he does when he gets back home is delete Lu Han’s number from his phone. Chanyeol feels like he’s picking sides, like he’s choosing Baekhyun over Lu Han despite them both being somewhat at fault. And yet, it’s because despite everything, despite all the horrible things he’s learnt today, he _does_ still have feelings for the older man. His heart still flutters like a butterfly whenever he thinks about soft kisses and warm hugs. He doesn’t have any feelings for Lu Han, for the man he hardly knows—but he doesn’t think he wants to know more, eager to stay away.

His parents.

His fucking parents.

It crushes him, finding out the truth. Learning about his father. He falls back into his arm-chair, thinking about the man he knew. There were never any hints, never any signs. Chanyeol’s father was loving and kind—he adored his family.

And yet, he delved into the drug scene. A man like him. So kind and heartfelt, so wonderful and strong. Under the surface, he was apart of an illegal gang, dealing drugs and fucking _killing_ people.

It makes Chanyeol think… maybe Baekhyun isn’t that bad either. If Chanyeol’s father was so kind, maybe Baekhyun is too. And—and he is. Chanyeol knows he’s kind. Knows he has a soft side to him. Baekhyun is more than just a leader of a drug syndicate. He used to play video games as a child, knows how to play the piano. There are so many facets to the man Chanyeol knows.

It feels wrong to stereotype him as someone that is inherently bad because he leads a gang. Even if Chanyeol despises drugs.

He stops, sitting up straight in his chair.

His parents didn’t die because of a car crash, his parents were murdered because his dad was invested in a drug syndicate. The reason why he’s been so against drugs—against Sehun who he found out dealt to the people at the club—was because of his parents. Because he knew the effect it could have on people.

And yet, now he knows the truth. Does he have a reason to be so against drugs? Especially if his own _father_ was apart of the industry?

Yeah. He thinks he does. The feelings haven’t changed, his morals haven’t changed. Drugs aren’t for him, and Chanyeol still knows what they can do to people. He doesn’t like what they can do to people, what they have done to people in the past, and what they will continue to do to people. Even if his parents weren’t directly killed because of someone on drugs, he thought they were. And they could’ve been. It could’ve happened in the exact way the coroner had told him.

It’s different now though. He feels like he doesn’t have a reason to hate drugs as much as he does. And that annoys him. Just because his parents weren’t killed because of a man on drugs—does that mean he suddenly can’t say they do bad things to people? That they don't affect those on the outside?

At the same time though, he now knows for sure that the people who deal and help facilitate the entire business, aren’t necessarily horrible and corrupt. Sehun is apart of it. His father was apart of it. Baekhyun is apart of it.

Baekhyun.

Chanyeol sits up, deciding to make a cup of tea. He can’t think about Baekhyun without forgetting what the man had said. He _loves_ Chanyeol. He’s loved Chanyeol for years, it seems. Back when he had no clue the elder even existed. It should be creepy, and it is—it kinda, really, is. Finding out that Baekhyun had been keeping tabs on him, and fell in love with him before they even met, sounds insane.

And yet, the only reason why Chanyeol isn’t horridly _angry_ is because he really likes him too. Maybe even loves him.

He thinks about when they first met. Thinks about when they went to Ulsan. Thinks about when they had their first kiss, their first date. They fell into bed with each other, gave each other passionate kisses and warm hugs. Chanyeol found himself enamoured with the older man, wanting to know more, wanting to _give_ more and always getting so much in return.

Baekhyun spoiled him—in every way possible.

But as much as Chanyeol wants to fall back into the other’s arms, he doesn’t think he can. It isn’t simple. Isn’t as black and white as his heart wishes it could be. This is Chanyeol, unemployed, with Baekhyun, a gang leader. As much as he likes the man, as much as he maybe even _loves_ him, he… can’t. He can’t get involved, can’t live his life worrying about Baekhyun.

Can’t get involved with a man who has morals that are not aligned with his own.

Chanyeol doesn’t think Baekhyun killed his parents, even if the man himself feels so guilty. It wasn’t him—it was someone from Lu Han’s gang. _That’s_ who killed Chanyeol’s parents. And yet, Baekhyun is still a drug lord, that’s real, and that’s not something Chanyeol wants to deal with.

Not now, at least.

It’s only been a few hours since he saw the man, but Chanyeol rings him up. Calls him. Wants to get in touch. He needs to chat, needs to really tell Baekhyun his feelings.

Baekhyun picks up on the second ring, sounding surprised, and Chanyeol asks the other to come to his house. The older man agrees, telling him he’d be able to arrive in less than twenty minutes.

Chanyeol waits by the kitchen, anticipation running through his skin. His decision feels final, his feelings resolute. This is the closure he has been waiting for, finally understanding his feelings and realising that maybe this is just apart of life. One of those stepping stones he’s always thought about.

When Baekhyun arrives, Chanyeol’s heart feels like it’s going to break.

“You’re wet.” He blinks, staring at the man’s soaked clothing.

“It started raining,” Baekhyun smiles, shrugging. “I couldn’t be bothered to get an umbrella.”

“Come inside,” he gestures in the house, grabbing a towel and giving it to the man. He doesn’t want Baekhyun to get sick.

“I was surprised to hear from you. I thought maybe you’d call me in a week, not on the same day.” Baekhyun rubs his hair with the towel, the strands sticking up and looking slightly messy.

Chanyeol shrugs. “I thought about things. I wanted to talk to you.”

Baekhyun nods, waiting.

“You didn’t kill my parents,” Chanyeol starts off, raising a hand in the air when it seems like the older man wants to butt in. “No, let me finish. You didn’t. It was someone from that other gang, not you. You don’t have to feel so guilty.”

“Chanyeol…”

“Second,” he continues, wanting to finish his piece. “It really does creep me out that you were following me for years before I even met you, and it bothers me knowing that you knew so much about me and never let on that you did. It’s… weird. A little messed up.”

The older man’s hang drops. “I’m sorry.”

“Hold on, I’m not done,” Chanyeol shakes his head, slightly amused—but then he becomes serious again. “Despite that, despite how creepy it is, I can’t help the feelings I have for you.”

“What?” Baekhyun raises his head, looking surprised.

“What?” Chanyeol snorts. “You thought I was just playing you the entire time? I really liked you Baekhyun. I still do.”

“Oh…” the older man breathes.

“I don’t know if I love you, but I really like you. A lot. It hurt so much when I found out who you were. Not going to lie, it still hurts—a _lot_. But…”

“But…” Baekhyun repeats after him, shoulders drooping.

“I just don’t think I can be with you.” Is what Chanyeol says, final. His own shoulders droop, heart cracking with each word.

“I know,” Baekhyun says, voice soft. His hair is still a mess, still wet and unbrushed. He looks hurt, but he also looks resigned. “I never expected you to stay.”

Chanyeol doesn’t know why but it’s these words that hit him the hardest. That make him feel like he wants to collapse on the spot. Like Baekhyun has been gearing himself up to hear Chanyeol say this.

“We’re from two different worlds,” he tries to explain, desperate. “And I… I don’t think I could live being so afraid for you at all times, knowing just what could happen.”

He pauses, for a second, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Your father didn’t die from old age, did he?”

“He was shot.” Baekhyun’s voice is emotionless, monotonous. “Killed by a rival gang.”

Chanyeol feels selfish. Feels like he’s breaking up with Baekhyun—even if they weren’t together, he reminds himself _again_ —because he doesn’t want to live with the possible consequences of what the elder’s job entails. Chanyeol can’t be with him because he’ll be so scared, knowing that Baekhyun is in danger at all times. It’s selfish, so _selfish_ , but it’s a real fear.

“I’m sorry Baekhyun,” he apologises, breathing through his nose. Trying to calm himself down, he runs his fingers through his hair, swallowing a mouthful of saliva. “Plus—I—even if I now know that my father was apart of that… I still don’t like drugs. I don’t like knowing that you supply people with the substances. I wouldn’t be able to _live_ with myself.”

“I understand. I do.” Baekhyun sighs, an artificial smile on his face. “Is this it then?” He sounds so resigned, so accepting, like he never even had a chance. Like _they_ never even had a chance.

And maybe they didn’t.

“I really adore you so much,” Chanyeol tries to make the other understand, voice desperate. Baekhyun _does_ mean so much to him, but it’s… it isn’t enough. Chanyeol doesn’t think it’ll ever be enough. Not when their relationship has only spanned a few months at most. It was bright and beautiful, and Chanyeol enjoyed every second of it—but all it is, is a stepping stone. For them both. “So, _so_ much.”

“But it’s not enough,” Baekhyun nods, shrugging. “I understand.”

“Fuck.” Chanyeol feels his eyes starting to tear up, his heart realising that this is it. This is the end. Maybe if Baekhyun had fought for him a bit more, instead of just accepting what Chanyeol had said—then they might have had the chance. But it seems like Baekhyun understands what this is, that they’re not really meant for more than this. More than just a simple period in life.

Is it better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all?

Chanyeol doesn’t know.

“Here, come here.” Baekhyun grabs Chanyeol and pulls the tall man’s hand into his arms. There’s a shaky quality to his _it’s okay_ ’s, a pained acceptance to his _sshh_ ’s. He pats Chanyeol’s head, runs his fingers through the younger’s hair and whispers in his ear.

It feels so comfortable slipping back into Baekhyun’s embrace, feeling the older man’s skin touch his own. Knowing that they’ll be practically strangers after Baekhyun leaves, is heartbreaking, and it makes Chanyeol sob even harder.

This is it.

A number of images rushes through Chanyeol’s head. When they met, when they continued to meet, when Chanyeol couldn’t let go of Baekhyun. Even in the beginning, he had known that this was temporary, that a stripper and a… _CEO_ wouldn’t work out. He had resigned himself to this fact since the _beginning_ —but he guesses he didn’t really listen.

When he pulls away, his heart breaks further at the sight of Baekhyun’s watery eyes. Baekhyun, so strong, so fierce, and yet in pain too.

“It’ll be okay,” Baekhyun rubs his cheek, eyes sparkling. “You taught me a lot, you know.”

“I did?” Chanyeol sniffs, surprised.

“The way I am to you… I’m not like this to many people. To no one, actually. You probably never realised, but you helped me keep in touch with my humanity. It’s all because of you.”

“Oh…” he bites his lip. He had no idea. This whole time he thought Baekhyun was the one who helped him, who allowed him to grow confident and strong. Who taught him how to really love himself.

“I should probably go,” Baekhyun says, thumb still rubbing Chanyeol’s cheek. He’s smiling, fond, and the younger’s heart continues to break.

“Oh.”

“Before I leave though, can I ask for a few things?”

“A few things?” He cocks his head to the side, sniffing.

“Work at Chen’s again,” Baekhyun reaches down to grab Chanyeol’s hand, rubbing gently at the Loey tattoo. “You’ve started to enjoy it. I can tell.”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol nods, biting his lip. “I really have.” And it’s all because of you, he wants to say.

“Good,” Baekhyun nods. “Also—get in touch with Sehun? He really misses you. He complains, a lot.”

Barking out a laugh, Chanyeol nods. Yeah. He definitely will, he misses the younger a lot too.

“And lastly…” Baekhyun pauses, letting go of Chanyeol’s hand. The younger immediately misses the warmth. “Can I kiss you? One last time?”

The request makes Chanyeol’s heart soar—for good or for worse, he doesn’t really know. Instead of responding verbally, he leans down and presses his lips against the elder’s. He moans as soon as their lips touch, sinking into the kiss. There’s so much longing and pain threaded throughout, but it’s enough to get Chanyeol’s limbs tingling. Baekhyun curls his fingers into his hair, pulling him closer. It’s so hot, so wet, so passionate—and it’s final.

This is it.

Baekhyun’s lips are as sparkling as his eyes when they pull back.

“Bye Chanyeol.”

Baekhyun doesn’t tell him he loves him, and Chanyeol is glad. Instead, he leaves with one last grip to the younger’s hand, a soft smile on his face. When the door shuts behind him, everything feels final.

It’s all over.

*~*

“When was the last time you got a Wednesday?” A newbie by the name of Zitao asks. He’s young and Chanyeol is way too fond of him. He rubs some highlighter along the crease of his cheekbone, sounding like he’s been ripped off. “Jongdae only lets me perform on Wednesdays and Thursdays.”

“You have to make your way up the ladder,” Chanyeol explains, cleaning the younger’s eyeliner up. “You’ll get there eventually.”

“Ugh, I feel like I’ve been here for so long already.”

“Stop complaining, I was stuck on Wednesdays for three years, rookie,” Chanyeol nudges him in the shoulder, laughing. He sits back in his chair, staring at the back stage area. There are some boys running about, a few new and a few old. It’s a Thursday today and Chanyeol was asked if he wanted to dance. Since he joined Chen’s again, he hasn’t refused an offer.

It’s been around four months now, and Chanyeol thinks things are going well. He got in contact with Jongdae a few days after Baekhyun had left for that last time, and was immediately welcomed back. It’s crazy to think that he used to hate dancing in the past. He’s so confident in his skin now, knowing the effect he has on people. He’s grown so much, loves himself a lot.

When he arrived back, he found himself crawling into Sehun’s lap. Everything was a little strained at first, and it was only until they had a _long_ chat—about Sehun being his bodyguard, Sehun being apart of the Ssangyong Pa—that things really patched up between them.

“Why don’t you have the double dragon tattoo?” He asked once, curious. Sehun’s body is free from any scars, any tattoos—pure unblemished skin.

“I was supposed to get one but that’s when I was assigned to you. They always wanted me to join you here, so that’s why I never did.”

Nowadays, Chanyeol doesn’t bat an eye when he catches Sehun dealing, but he still doesn’t like it. It’s not his business though, and Sehun knows the consequences. He’s a big boy.

Occasionally, he finds himself asking about Baekhyun. How is he, how he’s doing? Small questions, little life updates. Apparently, he’s doing well, and that makes the younger happy. Chanyeol knows that Chen’s is heavily guarded by the Ssangyong Pa, but Sehun told him he isn’t being followed.

Not anymore.

Sehun even said that there's someone being groomed to take over the role as the head. It may take a long time, but it's going to happen. Eventually.

Chanyeol's heart  _thumps_ at the thought.

He hasn’t regained his job at the convenience store, and he hasn’t seen Lu Han since their last conversation—but he thinks he’s free. Sehun’s with him a lot, regardless.

“Chanyeol, you’re up.”

He moves past Zitao, shooting the younger a quick grin. There isn’t much to it when he grabs his gown and heads towards the mainstage. The lights are dimmed, but it’s enough for Chanyeol to find himself drowning in his excitement. There are a few hoots, one or two shouts of his name, as soon as he walks on stage, and he smiles.

This is what he’s meant to do.

The music is slow and sensual, and Chanyeol moves his body in turn. The gown caresses his skin, highlighting the smooth of his abs. He can see the money thrown onto the stage, given by those with glazed eyes. He steps forward—sure, confident.

Once in awhile, he flicks his eyes towards the area he’s so used to observing—but there’s no one there. No one of note anyway. 

When he finishes his stage, he picks up the money and leaves with a blow kiss. He’s stopped by Kyungsoo.

“Hey, you were great—as always.”

He’s holding something in his hand, a piece of paper.

There are some things in life that aren’t meant to last. Chanyeol likes to think of these as stepping stones, points in time that are meant to help people grow. Things happen, _shit_ happens, and it’s up to the individual to figure out how it’s going to affect and change them—if it’s going to affect and change them at all.

Chanyeol thinks of Baekhyun as one of these stepping stones—teaching him, helping him grow. A period in life that was never meant to be constant.

But when Chanyeol takes the note, eyes skimming over the written words, his heart soars. Maybe stepping stones aren’t always meant to signify the end. Maybe they’re meant to highlight a new beginning when things change—when things get better.

_Gorgeous as always._

_~B_

Chanyeol throws his gaze back out into the crowd, fingers clenching around the paper.

He smiles.


End file.
